The Possession of a Preoccupied Mind

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Hey, how you doin'?  No, I am not rewatching Friends for the zillionth time.  It's just that I hate to start traditionally.  I'm in a conflicting situation: some of my readers like my conversational tone, but apparently it isn't quite acceptable to the publication agencies. Two of my best-appreciated stories were rejected because of their tone. The rejection felt like a jolt that I could practically feel in my head, especially the second one.  Since that day, I've been caught up in a vicious loop of boredom because I stopped writing anything new.   I also called off a new transcription gig that promised me some good money, but the client was a tad bit of a scoundrel in his behaviour.  So here I am, having voluntarily stepped away from both writing and work, and somehow managing to be bored out of my mind. Pretty efficient, ain't I? I'm in that peculiar state where I don't want to do anything to kill time, yet somehow want the time to pass joyfully. I ...
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A Unified Whole

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I don't like to forget that. Why is that? As opposed to the unanimous mandate , i don't. 

It's not like i can't, i so willingly just don't want to. As bad as it might be for a memory to lock i would still very much like to have it, remember it , rehash it and cry for it. 

It's oddly satisfying. It really is. I love it , love doing it. I love to cry, whenever i get a chance and whenever no one is around i just remember all the things leading to the end and cry. The harder the gasp the more satisfying the whole process of purging my inside gets. 

It really clears up. I can feel how light my heart gets after that. I vouch for it. 

The convention doesn't always work. What they say can also sometimes be something you should do the exact opposite of. 

The need of remembering is as simple as this, If i don't remember, i will forget. You don't have to be the quickest of a cat to get that. And if i forget , i will be forgetting the end. Then it will be something without a closure. An open ended story to which you will keep on fictionalising.

One thing which is most important to have in a story is a beginning, a middle and an end. This is called the Holy Trinity of a tragedy. This is what makes the plot of a tragedy a united whole. And this is not something i am making up. This is propounded by the great Greek philosopher Aristotle in his Poetics, Chapter 7 to be precise.

And that was a tragedy of the highest order. 

The beginning, sadly i don't remember. Every memory  seems as the middle as I can't remember my very first memory of him. But i do want to remember my last. That's very tributing if you would ask me.

16.11.2022 is the date of today and the need for remembering it has come again as the clock continues to tick. 

I have to cry again. I have to remember it again. I have to accept it again. I have to purge my inside again. And i have to rehash it again - i have to be watchful, i have to wake him up at 4 A.M. He entrusted me with the duty of waking him up.  But this time i won't wake him up. He will never have to get outside of his room. I will lock it from outside - if i don't i will forget the end. And if i will, then it will only be a montage of memories. It will never be an unified whole. It will never have its beautiful form. 


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