FICTION| 533 WORDS
Since, childhood I have always been afraid of the silence. That silence which hangs between the words, silence that hangs between the sadness and the silence that hangs between the bitterness. It was those moments, I have feared of finding the ‘real me’ in myself than the person I have always thought myself to be.
So, I have sometimes wondered about my theoretical versions of me which is identical in look and feel but completely different psychologically. And thus, a realization dawned on me in process.
My existence is perhaps a probability among millions of others, like I could have been anything from an atom to a fully-grown cell, but among those millions one of those outcomes was executed and thus I started existing and breathing. Just like mine if we add up the probabilities of billions of others, we end up with trillions and trillions of probabilities, everyone being unaware of which of the outcomes will be executed.
It was springtime, in late February, one fine day when I was counting my probabilities of life expectancy, (which seems to have far less outcomes than other) I met her, again among the trillions. We were like two separate dice, thrown together at the same time, and luckily with the same outcomes. And thus, we have been a match for that day, which was in fact the ‘today’ of that day in late February.
Our happiness, and our commitments were all for the ‘today’ we lived in. We knew, the next throw of the dice may take us back again to trillions of probabilities apart, and thus it was too short a time, to savor every moment we share alongside each other. We were a ‘match for today’ but perhaps ‘a mismatch of tomorrow’.
She had a way of breaking down this huge complicated thing into few words—The Game of chances, and thus our each and every moment was just an outcome among the trillions. I was anxious about the moment to come, where as she lived each outcome at a time. Our life in a nutshell was all the outcomes together. And at that time in spring, when the world has unfolded its beautiful nakedness, in front our bare eyes, our relationship was the most probable among all.
“Why don’t you worry about the trillions we are surrounded with?” I asked once, kissing her cheek bones.
She simply, had brushed aside my hand before kissing me back and saying,
“Because it is the one, we are living in that we should be concerned about.”
But after infinite throws of two dice, with the same outcomes every time, there was a near miss, and then as feared, the near miss of probabilities became a mismatch, until we were once again trillions and trillions of outcomes apart.
It was December of that year, the wind has finally shielded my emotional involuntary pain in my thought spiral, through the shivering of my bones. My skin was perforated and was vulnerable to all the outcomes about to happen.
I was afraid of the silence once again, not because of finding the ‘real me in myself’ rather afraid of never finding myself again, into the absolute nothingness.
©Jumbled Letters 2019.
This is a different piece than, everything I’ve ever written. And before posting here, I had to think a lot. So, I am really really expecting that all the people visiting this post please, give this a read and let me know what do you think in the comments section below.