Almost magician
a letter from a perplexed magician who likes to disappear in her old, lost memories
Dear You,
This time I’m letting you assume that my delay was mainly due to me, being baffled between fonts.
While my mind was busy readjusting its capacities or erratically rewinding like a tape, I found some old memories on the shelf right next to the irrelevant Amul commercial.
As a kid, I used to make lists. lots of them. Lists about myself, my stuff, or my friends (that one could’ve been discounted in a sentence using mere 3 commas but eh) This wasn’t me being organized, but me being scared of losing things. Absolutely petrified.
I’ve lost all my favorite things at some point.
My friend told me they’re always there with me, I just couldn't find them at the moment. She joked how I was a novice magician who disappeared stuff and how my magic fades as soon as some grown-up came around. Probably because moms had the gift of hindsight.
But they don't go that far, like a missing sock, she said.
Grand how these kinds of daft thoughts took most of my headspace 20 years ago.
One day after an hour of weeping in a false hope that my parents would let me ditch school, we found a huge fallen tree on our way to school. That suspended classes for 2 days. Wow, that was easy.
This made me believe I had magical powers, I could fell trees or make it rain or even worse. Well, soon I realized I'd been kicked in the balls by Santa Claus, on Christmas morning when I failed to abolish an evil classmate. In my defense, I wasn’t even 5.
I smile as I return this memory jar to its place and promptly avoid the neighboring dark grey jar sitting in the corner, kinda staring at me. Not to be overstated but it looks like tendrils of smoke rising from the ruins, like burnt-out buildings; crumbled and ashen. It tells of a tragedy to some, but for me, accustomed imagery.
You’re lucky you’re not gonna read about that one today.
Totally unrelated but send me your Fifth thought from... Now! Go.
Mine would be daydreaming and pretending I’m Cassandra. Do you know her?
She was another sweet tragic Greek Myth. Well, Apollo unscrupulously cursed her the gift of prophecy. The catch was, sadly all her prophecies would come true but nobody would believe her. And just to might and main the spice, She’d only be able to see the most unfortunate things. Hence, the general despise. I mean who willingly would be friends with someone who only talks about coming betrayals, deaths and the worst, their country falling into ruins.
Well, I’d be poor Cassy’s friend. Only if she’d believe me.
Who’d have thought I had to refuge to a Greek Priestess to have my voice heard?
Can someone search for me what's the obscure dictionary word for A nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone distant, or that has never been yours, just in some unalloyed theories?
What? “You don't have to go that far” you’re saying?
Um okay, so would you believe me if I told you that sometimes I disappear too??
Not like a magician’s way but more like an illusionist.
What's the difference?
The illusionist’s way is mostly lying on your bedroom floor and dissociating for a long while, till you see more than 5 shades of dark weighing different realities., Or being faceless in a crowd of hundreds torn into nothingness. Or searching for that missing sock for way too long, not knowing when to stop.
And Dramatically speaking, the magician’s way is to examine and erase yourself from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. To walk into an ocean or lake and dissolve into the greenish-blue water like salt. To fall into the sun and evaporate into the fervid gold. To lie in a field or meadow and let the plants grow over you so that you are just another part of the earth and not a human with a head and a heart.
I wonder what that one's like.
Yours,
Almost a Magician