When I am with myself, we share a unique connection, a kind of relationship not to be found anywhere or at least we think like this. A relationship which starts at the thinking level and goes to point when nothing is said and everything is understood without saying anything. We tend to talk through our eyes, feel each other through our breathing and share the feelings in our frame of reference, in our circle of life, in our own existence.
The poetic words of the wise people means life to us and when people see us, they see persons full of life, joy and there are so many things in this world to do with so much little time. An ordinary music’s with simple lyrics and a punch line becomes so enjoyable that we might be hearing it all the time, engraving it in our hearts, like written for our souls. It feels like to see movies again and again and each time there is a new discovery while watching it. Our eyes change color, get enlarged with spark, dilate to convey and we look at each other for as much time as possible without blinking of an eye, voice become sharper as well as with increased breadth a sense of ownership emerges while we keep looking at each other.
Sometime I and my self are no more talking with each other, no looking at each other, not saying anything at all, but even with a distance apart from each other we still talk with each other, sharing each second together, discussing all the things together, giving suggestions, in a way sharing the same life as we do when we are together.
In all this we do fight with each other either away or as close as breadth. We do start fighting each other in equal tone but with the passage of time one of us just stops talking like one wanted to listen what the other is saying and in end we do come to a conclusion which we might not imagined when we started fighting.
There comes also times when due to circumstance we tend to leave other for what the other is doing. There is no lacking of love but that love takes some silent seat in the heart, mind and soul, a feeling of nothing creeps in and living for others is what makes us think that there is no one like one owns self; it is always the others for whom you have to live for which you even have to sacrifice your own likings, your own wishes, your own dreams, your own desires. And when this situation arises than time become dormant, nothing is enjoyed. This is the stage when one feels that when we are apart how much love is in between us, it gives an indication of the depth of relationship which I share with myself. This detachment always tells me that I am no more, living without living, life without a life