The Suicide of An Idea


Some addicts get addicted to the substance not because of the feeling that it gives them, but because of how it rewires things inside them. It works like a kickstart that can bring a heart that is no longer beating back to life. Such was this experience.

He’d been here many times before.

When he tried to think about this ‘place’ that he was in, he was always at a loss of words. It was at points like these that his thoughts were no longer able to communicate with him in an articulate manner. It reminded him of a paralyzed hand.

Suddenly, he had an idea. But just as he was thinking about it, he felt it slipping out of his mind. It was almost as if he was losing control over this particular idea: the idea was revolting against him.

“You think I’m ever going to work for you?! I’d rather cease to exist!”

Where was the sound coming from?

He looked up and saw a figure in front of him. It wasn’t human.

The yellow light reflected off the surface of the metallic looking figure. It looked strange, like Mercury.

“I’m tripping balls”

“No you aren’t”

“Wait, did I say that out aloud?”

“No, I can hear your thoughts. That’s where I come from.”

“Are you an alien or something?”

“Let me show you.”

The metallic hand reached for his forehead, and the moment it touched his skin, something happened. He felt like he was falling, getting lost.

He started to see strange things. But no, wait; he was starting to understand. He felt like a seamless stream of information suddenly made itself available to him. All that he had to do was access it.

This being was an idea- it was the idea on how to permanently quit the drugs that he was doing. But something strange happened. The idea revolted and separated itself from his realm of control.

“Now you see, you’re never going to quit. I’ve left you. You no longer have control here. You’re no longer in control.”

And with that, the idea jumped out of his window and fell to its death. His idea committed suicide.

“I’m never going to quit now.”

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him as he took another hit.



About Banda Mann Singh Lamba

I'm here to create art in the form of words. Come, take a dip in my day dreams.
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