SMOKE AND MIRRORS

On a breezy day, beneath the shade of a giant olive tree, after the spring fog had lifted. I stared at the crashing waves with impassive gravity. Sunflowers bloomed in patches around me, ascribing their existence to the sunlight that was filtering its way out through the mellow clouds.

My thoughts- a reflection of the fissures in my being, seeped into my mind soundlessly as a Coldplay song blared through the headphones. I had, over time, become deaf to the barbaric world that I had been a part of for the past fifteen years. And like a constant companion, the bipolar syndrome too, had been a part of me. But today, it had transcended to a new height. Without knocking on the doors of my existence, it had, instead, sneaked in- corrupting thoughts, blurring reminisces, blinding emotions and destroying lives.

Destroying lives.

Didn't you just hang on to those two words?

I did too, and you'll see why.

As I sat with my eyes closed, the stinging smell reached my nose. I opened my eyes and smiled contentedly.

I had done it.

I had set them on fire, everything and everyone.

The house, the backyard, my aunt, the dog- it was all burning. A silent plea of help reverberated through the air. Interestingly, it reflected my state of mind over the years. The sirens wailed in the distance as I saw a crowd gather.

And, here I was, sitting against the tree, dreaming of the Northern Lights and the runaway cabin I had planned to settle into for the rest of my life.

'It had to be done,' I explained later to the man who led me to a room with the doors that had metal bars on them. 'Will I find the Northern Lights here?' I asked, ecstatic.

The slamming metal doors and the light click of the lock were the only answers I ever got.