.yet to be born!

It’s yet another normal day.

I am having my dinner sitting on the table, contemplating how to die.

No, I have no complaints with life. But, there is nothing to look forward to.

Is this insanity?

What would happen if I suddenly cut this link to consciousness, consciously …deliberately?

The first thought that disturbs me is that of my parents…my father. Agreed, that it would hurt him. None of my earlier tantrums, rebellions… would have had caused him as much harm as my one single decision taken on a calm summer night when everything in my life is turning out to be perfect, might inflict.
Who else…? A recently best- friend turned husband .. At present am still grappling with the change. .. the process of losing a soulmate to the daily, inane drudgery of existence.

And..? and what? That’s it! This is my list of responsibility.
… What about the one who might be about to find a place in my womb? …the yet to be born?

Do I owe a responsibility to him…her?

Me, who always had this sense of not belonging on this earth., this sense of detachment…. to every form of bondage, am I waiting for him to instill life into this body?

Would a new life inside this body instill the desire to live?

What if it doesn’t? What if it is yet another failed attempt at trying to establish a link between the dead soul and a living body?

Would he ever forgive me?

He? Never ever imagined it to be a girl. How would I explain or even try explaining my child things about which am still clueless. It’s better if you are a male. Your chances of being satisfied with your life would be higher, my unborn.

The supposedly weaker sex has a very higher level of resilience. But, with time either you would have to develop a wall around yourself so that no feeling would ever reach you or would have to learn to accept pain, hurt and a sense of dislocation with equanimity, as a part and parcel of life.

Or you would have to be dumb enough to learn to never ever question or feel.

You would never ever belong….anywhere, to anyone.

The first half of your life, you would be running around looking around for your soul mate, a desire and a concept propagated by numerous books which you would have had read by then. Innocently, you would fall into their trap. You would fight, rebel, sulk… would keep searching till you find him.

The next half you would waste searching for whatever you had thought was there in him.

…..By then, the world would have had created such a havoc to your psyche that you would not even trust my womb. …and neither would I be able to shelter you in the cozy comforts of my womb, yet again…. nor have enough conviction to make you have faith on me.
….you would just be too skeptical of any allegiance of any sort, even me!!

.. I can’t let you go through the entire process. You are better off in my dreams… in my sleepy unconscious state…without a life.

… and on a calm summer night, I condemn you to death… you, who is yet to be born!!