The Choice

STORY

“I’m falling over the edge,” he whispered, derision in his eyes.

“Get a grip over yourself!” Sanity cried in desperation.

“Get a grip over what? A faltering life? A never-to-be fulfilled dream? A failed relationship?” he questioned.

Sanity felt her grasp loosen on his mind; she leaned to tighten her hold.

“A grip over the fact that there is still hope! On the faith that everything would turn out for better! On the bonds that still connect you with your loved ones!”

“Loved ones!” he cackled madly, “There are no loved ones. Nobody understands. Everything is a mess ... but she says that over the edge everything would be better. That I would finally be happy.”

He pointed to her, eclipsed in shadows.

Insanity sneered at her futile attempts; her malice evident.

“You must not go there! You must have courage. You must trust yourself and all difficulties would seem far easier to swing across!” Sanity pleaded.

“NO! NO!” he shouted, “Nothing would ever get better! I’m tired! I’m exhausted! I have struggled enough! I need my utopia! I need my inner peace!”

He began to revolt and tried to break her strong grasp on his wrist.

Sanity held on for dear life. She could not lose again to her. How many had she already lost?

“I would help you. You know I would help you.” Sanity whimpered.

“You LIED! You promised to help me but look where you have left me stranded! And she promises she would help me!”

Sanity continued to clutch at him but he was beginning to break free.

Only moments were left before she lost her hold on him.

She put in all her effort, digging her nails into his wrist, but egged on by her, he threw her grip off.

And, there she was, her nemesis.

Insanity smiled wickedly.

And mouthed the words, “You lost.”

* * * * * * * *

 

Later, in a dark corner, he wept; alone, accompanied only by those dreary green lines that played around him. There seemed only two planes on the scene, the vertical against which he leant and the horizontal on which he sat; rest was occupied by nothingness. The planes did not seem solid; rather something more fluid, something constantly in motion in a stormy sea of oblivion. They were not devoid of any colour, however: green lines, forming small perfect squares, ran across the length of both planes.

Where the horizontal plane ended, the treacherous edge began: culminating into a bottomless chasm of darkness. Jagged, the edge was far from even being remotely similar to its ‘square’ neighbours. But, that was expected. It had to be different.

It was the crossing; the junction between here and hereafter.

And, he was but a few steps from the crossing.

Why was he reluctant now? Had he not decided already? Had he not already made his choice? Had he not given up on Sanity and lumbered along to Insanity? Had he not been tired of the “sane” life he had led for so many years to no avail?

Yet, he wondered. And longed for the most trivial things that he had never cared for back then.

The delightful taste of sugar that he so liberally consumed with tea each morning; the resonating sound of the sparrow’s incessant chirrup that had its nest on a tree close to his bedroom window; the familiar sight of the old lady who always greeted him when he trudged to his gruelling job; the endearing touch of the ragged child who hugged him whenever he gave him money for ice cream; the delicious smell of freshly baked bread that wafted from the small bakery near his office building...

He had made a choice, yet he longed for what he had left behind.

“This is it. Only few more steps,” crooned Insanity in his ear.

He did not move.

“Come on ... you can do it. Don’t you want to be happy?” she whispered and gently nudged him.

Happy? Yes, I want to be happy. But what was happiness?

“Are you not tired of the monotony of your life? End it as you know,” Insanity said and pushed him slightly; he took a step forward. The gaping chasm stared back at him over the edge.

Was it really monotonous? Or had he never stopped to appreciate what he had been blessed with?

“Don’t just stand there ... keep moving. Happiness awaits you over the edge,” Insanity pointed over his shoulder to the edge; whose bold, serrated border plummeted into darkness.

He had forgotten what happiness really meant.

“Come ... and you would be truly happy.” Insanity stood in front of the edge now, beckoning him, enticing him.

True happiness was when crystals of sugar slowly melted in his mouth, when the little sparrow sang its song to him, when the grinning wrinkled face of the old lady greeted his sight, when the child hugged him in its innocence, when freshly baked bread teased his empty stomach.

“Just a few more steps ...” Insanity’s caressingly whispered.

Failed relationships, check.

Faltering life, check.

Unfulfilled dreams, check.

Trivial things that made it worth holding onto the straws of his life, check.

“I must go back,” he smiled.

And upon turning his head, saw Sanity waiting for him.