• sensitive_observer 10w

    Dear uncivilized one,
    You see, these days, I worry. Sitting on the border of a well. Peeking on the limitless depth. Searching for answers. Despair pushed me to write this letter. I should say, you're my only hope. It appears to me as if I was planning to plant a time capsule. And out of excitement, I kept one of my precious thing in the case, locked it and buried it in a strange forest. Days passed on and I realised that I have lost my thing. There wasn't a map or a note about the location of the time capsule nor I remember. Even the identity of the thing has vanished from my mind. What was it? How was it? I just know that I was different when I had it and somehow I buried my whole identity in that time capsule.

    I knocked the door of my instinct. The answer was that if anyone in this world has any idea about my precious thing, it's none other than you. And hence I turned to you. I, an artificial being. Yes, I know you are used to some other word. But an intentional pragramming has replaced the word ‘human’. My questions are in an order of backward timeline. The earlier you exist, the more answers I expect.

    I wonder how my tongue was like, my lips, my neck, the whole speech oriented part? Did the syllable, then too, get arranged for a rough accent, to pass prejudices or even to curse someone? I think it's the politics and the society which created a sense of them vs. us. But the fascination turns me helpless for have become less human. Is the mouth still safe? If so, then protect it.

    On preceding, I think of my eyes and its manner of sight. Now, it's filled more with dirt. How could one think that there was a time when these eyes had respect for every lady. What a disgusting impact of those friends and seniors has left on it! Are the eyes still safe? If so, then protect it.

    Moving to the initial days, the days of childhood. Was my soul still pure without doing all the rituals, following the norms of religion and just loving everyone and spreading an innocent smile? Probably the parents and relatives ruined it. Is the soul still safe? If so, then protect it.

    Else I remember who I was, before the world told me who I should be.
    ©sensitive_observer
    Inspired by Charles Bukowski!

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