S: "And it's another night. I don't know why I long for them throughout the day. Once I'm out, I try to return. When I return, I try to find things to justify my being here. I'm tired. This goes on for the whole day and I badly wait for the time when I'd switch off the lights glaring into my eyes and go to sleep. The time has come, like every other day. And like every other day, I'm putting up a lot of effort to sleep. I am lying down calmly. My eyes are closed. But I can't sleep. Nothing has gone wrong. And a lot of things have gone wrong. I'm not sure I can actually analyse what is going on in my mind. I've selectively done away with the analysing work long ago. No analysis means no stress. Or is it not so? No analysis may also mean escaping from the reality. I do that occasionally, but I hate that. Sometimes it occurs to me that I am clueless about most of the things in my life. The more I think about it, the more clueless I become. What exactly am I thinking about? I must put an end to this night-time rumination." She shifted a bit to make more space for her partner lying beside her. She knew that her partner was awake, staring at her. She could feel the stare and shrank a bit. "Why does this person have to do this all the time? I know I've been living with her, but she is not supposed to screen every movement, every gesticulation of mine. She knows I'm not sleeping. But she should sleep. Why doesn't she understand that her sleeping off is important? I want to lie down comfortably. No, I won't open my eyes and let that stare penetrate me."
R: "She is not sleeping. She's been on bed for a long time. But her eye-balls are moving under her tightly closed lids. She goes through it everyday. I know what she's been thinking about. Lack of analysis is not the problem with her. She over-analyses. She thinks about the wrong things and makes the wrong judgements. But she's incorrigible. I stare at her all throughout to communicate that she's going to a wrong track. She never listens. A stubborn idiot she is. She is not having a particularly good time. But there are things which are good. She never realises that. She prioritizes the stupidest things and keeps on sticking to why-s, how-s, what-s related to them. I can never make her realise that I'm with her, no matter what. But my presence is just a habit that she's grown. She doesn't believe in me. Now that she's not opening her eyes is because she knows I'm awake and seeing her. She doesn't like my telling her what exactly should be done. She avoids me because I can see through her mind. She has become grossly avoidant. And I can't do anything about it no matter how hard I try. Like all other nights, she'd think about all things in a jumbled up fashion, get clueless, and force-stop her thinking. When nothing would help, she would get up, take one tablet and then would fantasize about things she wanted and things she could have done. She would imagine conversations, finish them in the way she wants. Eventually she would sleep. I can't stop her from travelling to this fool's heaven. Once I could. Now I can't. I just can't. I'll try to talk to her in the morning, though I'm not very hopeful that she would entertain. But I can't leave things as they are. I must try tomorrow again."
S: "She's still staring. I know it. I know what she means. She's trying to win over me. I can't have this any more. I need to sleep." She got up, went to the table, took out a tablet from the strip. She hesitated a minute before putting it in the mouth, then swallowed it and came back to bed. "Now I'm going to sleep in half an hour. And I can daydream. Yes, I'm free to daydream. And I would. She can't stop me. I know she's going to communicate tomorrow morning just after I wake up. But tomorrow is too far. I shouldn't waste this moment for her. I've stolen this moment from her, though not unrevealed. But this is mine. At this time, I'm the king of my world. I create it, I design it, I frame it, I rule it. I'd never let her enter here. Moreover, I have learned strategies to avoid her. I'd not let her babble tomorrow, the day after and the day after and so on."
After all, they've been living together for twenty-six years, in the same shell.
R: "She is not sleeping. She's been on bed for a long time. But her eye-balls are moving under her tightly closed lids. She goes through it everyday. I know what she's been thinking about. Lack of analysis is not the problem with her. She over-analyses. She thinks about the wrong things and makes the wrong judgements. But she's incorrigible. I stare at her all throughout to communicate that she's going to a wrong track. She never listens. A stubborn idiot she is. She is not having a particularly good time. But there are things which are good. She never realises that. She prioritizes the stupidest things and keeps on sticking to why-s, how-s, what-s related to them. I can never make her realise that I'm with her, no matter what. But my presence is just a habit that she's grown. She doesn't believe in me. Now that she's not opening her eyes is because she knows I'm awake and seeing her. She doesn't like my telling her what exactly should be done. She avoids me because I can see through her mind. She has become grossly avoidant. And I can't do anything about it no matter how hard I try. Like all other nights, she'd think about all things in a jumbled up fashion, get clueless, and force-stop her thinking. When nothing would help, she would get up, take one tablet and then would fantasize about things she wanted and things she could have done. She would imagine conversations, finish them in the way she wants. Eventually she would sleep. I can't stop her from travelling to this fool's heaven. Once I could. Now I can't. I just can't. I'll try to talk to her in the morning, though I'm not very hopeful that she would entertain. But I can't leave things as they are. I must try tomorrow again."
S: "She's still staring. I know it. I know what she means. She's trying to win over me. I can't have this any more. I need to sleep." She got up, went to the table, took out a tablet from the strip. She hesitated a minute before putting it in the mouth, then swallowed it and came back to bed. "Now I'm going to sleep in half an hour. And I can daydream. Yes, I'm free to daydream. And I would. She can't stop me. I know she's going to communicate tomorrow morning just after I wake up. But tomorrow is too far. I shouldn't waste this moment for her. I've stolen this moment from her, though not unrevealed. But this is mine. At this time, I'm the king of my world. I create it, I design it, I frame it, I rule it. I'd never let her enter here. Moreover, I have learned strategies to avoid her. I'd not let her babble tomorrow, the day after and the day after and so on."
After all, they've been living together for twenty-six years, in the same shell.
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