100th post - Can I be her ?

I started Monologues around the same time I started Backpacker. But while the traveller in me was quick to share, the persona living inside me was not always in a mood to write. Despite that, 99 posts have been written and I feel compelled now  to write my 100th , although I have no thoughts or topics in my mind .

Monologues is not really a monologue...it is actually a conversation . It is between her and me and we share  a bond. We wrote whenever we felt an impulse to say something. It has always been impulsive and personal to a large extent, except that it is often not me , who is speaking .

I created a persona inside me , a " She" who said a whole lot of things and somewhere within her was a bit of me as well. My first post on the blog started with her and initially it was always her, pushing her voice through my fingers, eager to be heard until she vanished inside me. She observed, she dictated, she ranted, she cried . Then one fine day she disappeared, leaving me to deal with my own emptiness .

I continued trying to express my thoughts and feelings, but could never find her..And the thoughts seemed rather forced and deliberate.

I look for her in vain. She is silent, dormant and will not raise a voice. Cold, and indifferent to the world around her now, I wonder if I can possibly recreate her. Until then, I am left with neither monologues nor conversations.

The Mirror

The glass looked a bit worn out and discoloured. The grime had stuck to it like glue and stubborn patches made their mark in the otherwise shiny surface . But he didnt seem to mind. It had become a habit for him to stand in front of it for a few minutes everyday.The glare of the sun reflected through the glass. The eyes stared back at him. Cold, unemotional. He was not looking at the dry tanned skin nor the lines that had etched themselves. He had that ageless look about him. He pushed a strand of smooth wavy hair that had fallen over his eyes . He splashed water on his eyes and stared again . Those eyes bored into his , almost piercing through him. He looked away disappointed .

It was a daily ritual. The mirror seemed to tell him something.It showed him his tanned skin, his bright features, his cold eyes, his deep lines, his ageless face - but it could not show him something that he was been looking for all these years...his IDENTITY .