A jolting feeling of derealization

The Categorical Aloof

Wish I was more like everyone

Breeze flew inside my skin, and the freeze began hauntingly taking over my collarbones, as I rode the wuthering mountains, and walked behind the surface of the jungles, trying to hide in a thick lush forest. With tigers walking with supple feet slouching to catch his very prey, only if he could catch another glimpse. In all ilk, the boundaries of the jungle expand and trap me as I bask in the glory of desolation. Alone I swim in the muddy pond with crocodiles lurking, all that was there shattered. Isn’t all dreams wild and deepening? I was dancing in the burning coal and suddenly the skins fell off and now I am gazing and looking at all the predators there, watching me in awe. I am sinking inside the tomb of very depths. The Atlantis of Imagination all catapulting into a draining memory

Is it awe?

For people are just embodiments

of their own senses, as they,

like to say, I am in between

transported, to talk, to not talk,

to socialize, or compromise, to open myself,

or refrain, the rules of cacophony are made by,

Demons of dungeons trapping dark shadows,

and splitting abyss. It travels like a snake,

and seeps inside of a human,

seeing your tentacles trapping you,

while you are opening your body for the embrace.

But they climb on top of you,

Throw slaps and kicks at you,

Urge you to speak,

slander and disdain, making you parch,

on all essence of emptiness.

I never feel empty, never in the splitting wave of lights, It was never the choice to be in sync with jarring voice, all voices huddle up,

Term the hymn, “Man a Social Messenger” needs to be social, the lame facade, and the twisting spotlight, all create a haze,

The dew is not fog, I am not in the bog, and I am not syncing in a grassland pit. I am well-attuned and healthy on the surface. Not giving up my essence,

For a twist in the tale called, ‘social being’ or ‘social media’, the latter being a paradoxical construct of feeding on relationships.

Of one hour, one second, one minute, swipe the sticker, swipe the face, and make friends, but they were never in your woes.

In beehives, almond cones and clove mints, all social bees flock and dupe themselves to not slave for their queen!

They taste the scent, enjoy the aura and aroma, and leave till they can fly high and high above the stratosphere until they are caught by a bird mid-air.

The aromatic fragrance of the atmosphere adds to my solitary life, where I enjoy seeing nature’s play playing all in it again.

Cosmic context: This is a poetic musing with prose where I try to encapsulate an introvert’s life when social responsibilities begin to surface, projecting a protocol of an outgoing man. It tries to capture the journey of an introvert's life where he/she, actively avoids people. The age of social media does provide them relief, but deep down they too know all these relationships are too on the surface, there is no depth there. That’s why they prefer being a living camera, trying to capture moments with their eyes finding the secrets of the world and then replicating it.

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