Flitterbug in an inkwell

Life is like a bottomless well. The deeper you go, the darker it gets, more bitter it smells. The harder it gets, to swim back out. Out is where the sunlight and happiness lies. Where we are allowed to stay unless we choose to dive. Searching for the bottom of the lifewell. And when we find the bottom, we drown.

I am a flitterbug, easily distracted by bright things. So while I am all noble intent in finding the bottom of the lifewell, a hint of glitterdust crosses my gaze like a Snitch or a Speck and I go – Ooooo Shiinnyyy and I chase it madly out to the surface again.

I think perhaps this is what has kept me afloat in the poisonous lifewell that injects daily trauma and ennui relentlessly into uncaring homogenized billions. Bludgeoning each other in a desperate battle for space, love, hate, money, pleasure, or just by accident, waiting eagerly with wet blankets for a smile to peep out

That’s how I live cheerfully through the Rwandan genocide, the decimation of the Indian girl child, the unbearably boring candy fluff lives, of the haves and the high flies, the dramatic struggles of the have-nots, remorselessly advertised, dumbfuck economics and mindless wartimes, religious maniacs and egregious godguys, bombs, earthquakes, tsunamii, the underoriginals, the overpopulars, the infrareds and the ultraliberals, the designs of the Mata Haris and the propaganda of the Pseudo Normals, it runs on…

As I watch them swirling in the lifewell from the corner of my eye, my golden friend pulls me back to the surface with a mighty tug of the mind, and I’m back, to the peaceful surface lapping gently at my feet. I look down fearfully wondering when its my turn to go back there again…