Self-inundation. Obsession. It's a solo journey, never involving someone else, always centered on oneself. I am at the core of all obsessions. The notion that I'm obsessed with you is a fabrication. If you buy into it, well, that's quite foolish. Utterly foolish.
Am I obsessed with you? Do you really think so? My enchantment when I see you is akin to the aroma of coffee… I'm obsessed with that pleasure. You are the aroma of my pleasure. You must know that obsession doesn't play out in different roles. It occurs only in the self, within our own selves.
My fear births obsession and my concept of love does too. All my obsessions stem from the fear of losing my pleasures. The fear of losing my pleasures. An intense fear. And you should be aware that genuine love can never morph into obsession. All obsessions spring from fear. The fear of losing someone I believe to love. The fear of losing my sources of pleasure, and ultimately, comes the fear of losing fear itself.
Surprising, isn't it? It may sound strange, but it's not really a shocker. Someone living with the fear of losing fear is already deeply immersed in obsession. Fear becomes their identity, the melody of their existence, jingling like anklets. Lose that fear, and what do they live for? It's an illusion.
Deep within the core of all obsessions lies an intense fear. The fear of uncertainty. Life is inherently uncertain, but my illusion refuses to accept that. It weaves a never-ending fabric of deception that I want to believe is everlasting. Illusion is like a dark cloud and the abysmal obsession is born in that darkness of the illusion.
My entire life was spent in this obsession, in profound overwhelm, in the abyss of my fears. My biases, my judgmental nature, everything originated in that undesirable breeze. My entire life was confined.
One day I dared to fathom, no, not anymore. I'm disgusted by this life ensnared by my own thoughts. So much fear, so much fear and it's suffocating!
I kept probing the origin, the resort of my fear, searching for the hub of a spider in its web. But I failed to find any. Eventually, I realized I was the resort of my fear, I was the origin. Therefore, the resort of the fear has now gone albeit not the fear. I started stripping away the ornaments, one by one. I heard the inner cries. I became more ruthless. By shedding all the adornments, I convinced myself to live like this. Someone asked, what about the pleasures of my embellishments?
Let's become indifferent to those midnight calls. No need to give in or the game will restart. The never-ending game of fear. The game of obsession. Just know that I love you; beyond that, whatever I say, however adorned it is, it's all false. Again, obsession never involves someone else; it only involves me. It involves my own fear.
Fear
Khalil Gibran
===============
It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear.
She looks back at the path she has traveled, from the peaks of the mountains, the long winding road crossing forests and villages.
And in front of her, she sees an ocean so vast, that to enter there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.
But there is no other way. The river can not go back.
Nobody can go back. To go back is impossible in existence.
The river needs to take the risk of entering the ocean because only then will fear disappear, because that's where the river will know it's not about disappearing into the ocean, but of becoming the ocean.
[My last post 'ঘোর' translated by Subhajit Roy. Thanks a lot, with lots of love.]