THE ATTENTION
I ought to respect the attention that she gives me. Here is someone giving me all the attention that I’ve been yearning for. I’ve been pining for attention as a famished Arab pines for a glass of water. This is in stark contrast to what I get from other quarters.
Others look at me with such contempt and hatred in their eyes that this is a refreshingly different experience. I only fear that this would not last long. The different and yet congruent pieces of the jigsaw puzzle would ultimately fall into place to give way to a final shape to the distorted shape of things. The attention that she gives me shall eventually fade into eternity. The occasional smile, the affection that I see in her eyes, the fond caress of her hands, all this would fade into the ether.
I don’t want this to happen. The end of a beautiful dream cam sometimes be the worst nightmare. To be conscious that the end of the dream is approaching and yet not absolutely come, is one of the most wearisome as well as the most curious stages along the course between the beginning of a passion and its end. I don’t want all this to end. I want time to stay exactly where it has brought me. I don’t want this to be a mere halt in the long journey of life. I want this to be a station.
The station might as well be a figment of my imagination, a creation of my insatiable hunger for attention. This could be a liberated zone, an idealized world, where the laws of life refuse to apply themselves.
Life has dealt with me in a ruthless fashion. Defecting from the stringent and cruel patterns of time and life is just not possible. The joint family of time and life with all their paraphernalia refuse to go different ways. The group is strengthened by the dominating presence of fate and destiny that refuse to part ways with the others.
Fate and destiny have brought matters to the end I find them in today. My destiny brought me face to face with so much attention that I fear losing myself in the ecstasy generated by the collision of events. I never believed that by the evening my coulourless inner world would become as animated as water under a microscope. The attention that she gives me has certainly made me very happy. To be loved to madness---- this is my great desire. Love to me is the one cordial that can drive away the eating loneliness of my life. I seem to long for the abstraction called passionate love more than any particular lover. I sometimes wonder if the affection in her eyes is an answer to my longing for attention. I have always believed that a blaze of love, and extinction, shall be better than a lantern glimmer of the same that should last long years.
The fond affection that I find in her eyes shall certainly not last long. This could be the blaze of love that threatens to become extinct a the slightest hint of consciousness, I always fear that I would not find it in her the next time that I see her, but she remains unchanged. I wish I could preserve these moments for future generations.
Future generations shall always bear testimony to the ecstasy that I shall experience if ever the big fight is won. The truth remains that I don’t want to win, I want the fight to be endless.
If the fight were to end, the reinforcement that I get for fighting would cease. Somehow I know that the attention that I get from her is the reinforcement for the fight. It is immaterial whether I win or lose the fight, I’ve already got the reward.
I want the reward to be with me even after the fight. I fear losing the reward once the fight is over. If I lose the fight, I cannot claim the reward in any manner. The reward seems to be so precious that I want to win the fight.
I badly want to win the fight, I badly want the reward promised to the winner, I want the attention. On second thoughts, I feel that I should let time follow its own course. I should be content with being a fighter.
Being content with the status of a mere fighter is probably not what fate destiny have in store for me. The attention that I find in her eyes forces me to think twice of the future of a mere fighter. Only time can tell the exact composition of my future.
