What about the infinities trapped in one’s own heart?
The tail of turmoil inside the writer’s head.
A piece by Black Ribbon
There is always some kind of melancholy lurking in a writer’s mind. He has been through something, seen something or even done something out of this world to pen those pearls on paper. It isn’t easy to give justice to your story, to your feelings and experiences on paper.
A writer’s story is slightly different from a non writer’s. He has a real story and then that same story is contorted into many different forms and possibilities in his head. A writer tends to see people and situations as characters and incidents in his grand world. He forgets that perhaps he could be a character in someone’s world as well.
7 billion people on this planet and writers happen to be so self-centered so as to create more stories, more characters and more infinite worlds. Someone needs to lend a pen to the stories of real people and the real infinite feelings trapped inside their souls. 7 billion souls. A staggering number.
To write something this magnanimous is an overwhelming task. No writer could possibly encompass this much of information in a combination of mere 26 letters. The expanse of this world is scary and what is even scarier is the fact that it cannot be morphed into a form we can understand
And what about the infinities trapped in one’s own heart? Writers find it difficult to pen those, let alone this universe of feelings and thoughts. Within the smallest of the smallest atom there is a universe, and then there is the universe itself. How can one put words to something so indescribably vast and inexplicable?
It’s a mystery and a tragedy that even after being a part of this web, being a part of creating this endless madness, we cannot describe it simply. We are incapable of grasping our own complexity and power.
We haven’t yet discovered the power of our mind, our stories and their consequences. Even after containing a universe within ourselves, we are but a blip in this vast universe. And that’s the tragedy of our pitiful situation.
So, how can writers put this perplexing condition of the world and the ones inhibiting it, into words and sentences and paragraphs? It’s so gigantic a task that even considering embarking upon this adventure seems like stuff made from the most bizarre of our dreams and perhaps, universe.