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Diary : My Search for an Absolute.

Sometimes it would just feel insufficient, inadequate. As if there’s something missing and I am grappling in the dark. It’s like hallucinations. I see things that are not there – sometimes I can’t differentiate between reality and beliefs. But I can’t keep hurting myself from imaginations. And I know these are mere imaginations because they’ve happened before.

I chose to be a blank canvas, and it has made me pay. I chose to freeze in time, to not meddle with what could be. I chose to question beliefs, if we have the right to believe, to believe in something which might be far from the truth – I could never find good enough reasons to believe either in experience, or in time or a person, not even a God.

But flexibility came with its own perils. I did sway, and I did learn – but learned at the cost of an absolute. There were too many contradictions, too many intersections. That’s the beauty of learning, you can’t learn something unless you believe in the subject. And when you believe in it, when you’ve a forgiving, inclusive attitude towards it, you’ll find yourself at a point of contradiction. And you’ll be forced to choose. You’ll be forced to believe.

So, I think contradiction is the way of life. Because not believing, is believing itself. It’s fluid. Which is true for everything around. It’s only adding more complexity to my thoughts. Then what is the truth? What’s right & what’s wrong if I am deciding in a state of suspension?

There simply can’t be an absolute. Right, wrong – it’s all subjective. Your feelings, my feelings – all subjective. Your experiences, your bank balance, your societal position – they are all subjective.

Now I circle back to where I started – the magical element of time. Between memories and imaginations, the only truth is time. The time element of life – that you exist at this time, in this state. Time is neither right nor wrong. It’s not subjective. It’s unbiased, unadulterated. It’s absolute.

It’s only “now “, and everything pertaining to it that is a reality.

And now is broken.

About the author

Bhavini Jha

“Only if life could be coded, it would be decoded”.

Love to write, passionate about life.

Working in Mumbai, Maharashtra 

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