Witness
The sun hasn't risen yet. Kathmandu is asleep. And as I sit facing the life around me, drenched in my own turmoil, I feel like a body on the verge of cremation waiting for its soul to give answers to every question. I have come to realize that the greatest disease a man can have is abnormality; it's this form of painful awareness of knowing you can't get better and this utter confusion of asking oneself if I even want to. Life reeks of intelligence and philosophy, entities dive into star faced paradise of knowing the truth and knowing how humankind is just a speck in the universe. But why this numbness? Why does this dust not have the liberty of feelings when even a plant around it turns towards the sun? Why is it that affirmation of a new beginning needs the sun to tear apart me every day just so I know this isn't a monotonous apprehension of everything I have ever done? I am not sad; I am not disappointed either. I just have questions, something that's inherent t...