So, when it comes to humans, I have always wondered whether we really see the same colours. Like whether the blue I see is blue for you too. Or whether it is apple green for you. Like how the sky is blue for both of us. But if you look through my eyes, it is magenta. And the colour of the sky through your eyes does not exist in mine.
Isn’t it quite ironic how people highlight your insignificance whenever you are going through one of the most significant problem in your life, when you want to feel significant the most, saying “Come on honey take it slow; you are just one small particle on a self-revolving rock, rotating around another plasma made burning rock, floating in space and time collectively, with or without any aim, who knows, who cares.”
Honestly, though, does it make sense how humans are made of emotions, who knows coming from where, walk on dead life, happy, mostly tired, worried about college loans and lost loves and upcoming movies and how inflation has affected the price of their favorite chocolate muffin and whether we see the same blue?
How significantly insignificant are you really? And your problems, and chocolate muffins?
Do not ask her what it feels like to live inside her head or how she stuffs her whole body inside her head, though she has been living there most of the time, for as long as she can remember. Sometimes her eyes go wide when she realizes that she is inside again and forces her muscles to walk a bit slower when she feels that she is walking fast by habit without any reason for the hurry. Ask her what is harder, walking fast or slow.
And sometimes, she finds someone else with a bigger mental capacity to cram her body inside their heads for a change, and it works sometimes, and fails miserably most of the time. Because people with enough space to stuff their significantly massive bodies inside their own significantly small heads are rare. Because intimacy for her is that, experiencing together.
Little does she know that she has been living in this labyrinth of significantly divergent parallel universes of her, and everything and everyone around her for most of her life, with Everything and Everyone that can happen in millions of years and could have happened just a second ago. She sometimes lives in a universe where she decided to wear that sleeveless top she threw away because of her insignificant arm fat or a universe where she decided to turn left instead of right that day she lost her best friend, and her whole body goes numb with a tingle running down her spine reminding her that she did not, unfortunately, or fortunately make those choices.
It is, as they say, what it is.
Chaotic, isn’t it? But that is what, as she says, brings her comfort.
Ever look up at the tragically beautiful night sky full of dying stars and wonder whether you in your parallel universe sees the significance in waiting at the grocery queue or the crosswalk, and in a weird selfless way wish that you do?
But honey, you would not be wishing for the two seconds of significant happiness you get from a chocolate muffin in every universe.
Just like how we see different blues, and yet both of us call it blue.
Written By: –
P. A. Manishi Prabasha
Edited By: –
Rtr. Binuri Dasanayake
(Blog Team Member 2023-24)
