Roots of Insomania

I am missing you this time. Means I know that there are mediums by which I can make you talk with me. But then that’s not what I wish this moment. I wish you to be here, giving these amalgamations of thoughts, memories and dreams an existence.
I had planned to sleep sooner than my norm these days. I wanted to have early, workable morning. I like to sleep with calm mind where no scratching questions. I am uncomfortable with questions, since they don’t usually have answers and I or somebody else wants them to have one. So I can’t be peaceful if I have question in mind. Usually I cheat myself and run away from question by either cooking up a dreamy, rhythmic world with no uncomfortable details or generating some uncomfortable but invincible and trivial solution. But even such runaway keeps scars and I can’t sleep peacefully. So I avoid conversations when I want new next day, without any signs of yesterday. Somehow my plan failed. I got into the conversation and that too philosophical one.
My roommate is a composed and thinking person. He hardly puts any statement without giving a thought. He has his priors and some strong justifications of these priors. Somehow we got into argument about Amartya Sen’s contribution and Human Development philosophy. I was in my usual iconoclastic role. He defended his argument, I counter argued evoking my favourite ‘limited cognition’ and ‘decision making’ principles. With lot of heat and no real light, argument ended in difficult silence. And, I have lost my sleep.
So I am awake. I know that I will wake up late now. So I will be laggard in this perfectly timed world. I will be following, running after trend setters and will be questioning myself, why the hell I am running like this. I will find myself at undesired places in undesired times. I will wish that I should have slept early. Everything is just cycling.
And, you must be wondering what is really going on. I wouldn’t have been chasing these mirages if I would have defined you uniquely.
Are you listening? Or have you left and I am just feeling your shadow, touches, voice, and words and assuming your existence to keep pieces of my identification together?
Now it is calmness. No untimely cries of crows, nor a cry from a fearful kitten. It’s silence. You are somewhere, sleeping, working, dreaming or thinking. I am here, with these words, with lots of lines extending in pasts and futures, collage of meanings of myself and you....

Thanks for the listening!