to be or not to be

To be or not to be. that is the question.

Questions. They fill every moment of time. She wakes up, brushes her teeth, her hair, dresses, all with a feigned certainty about the choices she makes. The mundane distract her, lure her into a security that will soon be breached. She walks down the walkway she has walked a thousand times before. She adjusts her hair, tilts her head in a way so as not to be too aggressive and not too reserved. She walks inside the ivy-covered semi-pretentious building, feeling the buzz of hope that something will change.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

The moon shines through the window, through the thin veil of skin that covers her eyes. She can’t sleep. This time it isn’t the questions that keep her awake, but the possibilities. Staring at the pale, blue-flowered wall paper and the inanimate objects that seem to come alive at night, everything is fluid. In this moment of darkness and unreality, she is able to escape the life she feels is inescapable. She can’t sleep. But she can dream.

That this too too solid flesh would melt

Eyes clenched tightly, she tries to imagine it away. The words had fallen out, unintentionally, and now, they were on display. Her carelessness was always dangerous, and now it could be lethal. Is that laughter or anger in their eyes? Which would be worse? The questions come back, more prohibitive than ever. How can she proceed? She’s can’t say anything. So she closes her eyes, to their faces, to the world.

That the Everlasting had not fixed his canon against self-slaughter!

It had occurred to her once, maybe twice. First as an abstract idea, a philosophical statement; the end of something must be the beginning of something else. And then, like so many things do, it began to unravel in her mind; the answer to all the questions. But logic set in. As an agnostic-leaning-towards-atheistic person, it was far more dangerous a thought than the religious few who are certain, one way or the other, what will befall them. And then she thought, that if there were no options left, then she was free to do as she wanted, without questioning every act. But she still questioned, and so she knew that for whatever reason, fear, hope, ambition, something still persisted in making her care enough to question herself.

O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

When those eyes look they see much more. They see strength, intelligence, and talent that was never there. Or maybe it was lost, in the rush of adolescence and puberty and competition. But hope never fades, and dreams are not always adjusted to reality.

She blames it on others. But the energy that fills her is not obligation. At least, it is not obligation to anyone but herself. She dreams and hopes and never faces the truth. Is that what drives her? Impossibility? Maybe she has realized that the restlessness she feels when compared to another human being, and falling short, is her own fault. She can pretend. And lie to herself and convince herself, and even others of her own potential. But will she succeed?

Fair is foul, and foul is fair.

When she was younger, she didn’t believe in morals. Perhaps it was the onset of guilt that made her rethink the concept. When she was younger, she thought that she was unaffected by the feelings that restricted other people. Now she isn’t sure. Is there an innate sense of right and wrong? Or is she so vulnerable to the influences of other people, that she changed, absorbed values from these other people?

Something happened. Somehow she changed and now she can’t help but feel sometimes. She tries to analyze her own moral standing in relation to other people. She tries to understand if she is a good person. Maybe that isn’t true. She isn’t completely sure about right and wrong. And so she does what everyone does; she tries to act like a good person, and hope that it works.

But there are many things she wants. And then she has to wonder, if she is really moral, and whether it matters.

Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

She likes to imagine it all. A life without all the faults she sees around her. Success in everything she wants, that’s what she sees. A house, filled with sunlight and warmth and happiness. A family. Satisfying her genetic destiny and the preconceptions of what she should do with her life. And she wants that. But she also wants more. A world, waiting to be shaped. A universe waiting to be conquered. She wants to achieve what no one has ever achieved. But sometimes, it is the quiet woods, a cozy cabin, the quiet of eternity, and herself, that draws her in. Without the distraction of a thousand voices and expectations. Isn’t that the purest form of life? A life untouched by the flaws of humanity and interaction. Left to her own devices, she could imagine any life she wished, and live it.

The dark, brown eyes stare back at her knowingly. They do know, after all, everything. They see everything she does, and feel all that she feels. She can’t look away from the girl looking back at her. Her face is imperfect and revealing. And yet, when she looks at the girl again, she sees all the hope of the world, all imaginable possibilities become solid and real in her eyes. And then she looks away.