The Man on The Wall

Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Disappointment. Despair. Depression.
The wallflower sighs.  No words to be said. Even said they wouldn’t be heard. 
A blur of colour, a chorus of laughter, life breezes by. Barely glancing at the wallflower, it dismisses the lone figure and resumes its mesmerizing dance.

Hot envy settles in the wallflower’s gut. It grows into a hole, consuming from within. Empty, the wallflower yearns. He needs…something.

With the best seat in the house, the wallflower watches them. They don’t look like they are searching for something. They just … were. They laugh, they cry, they move in time to the music on life’s playlist. Even though they miss a step, the wallflower puzzles at how easily they laugh it off before catching up with the music.

From afar, the wallflower laughs as they laugh. Maybe this time, they would actually see him and not just pass him as they usually did. Involved in their stories, the wallflower feels he has become a part of something. The space inside is filled with a feeling. This one he hadn’t felt before.

So the wallflower waits to be seen, watching for the magical moment, hoping to hold on to the new feeling for a long long time.
He waits. He watches. He hopes.
He waits. He waits. He watches.
He waits. He waits. He waits.
Slowly, the wallflower concedes to the disappointment, the despair, the depression . The black cloud weighs him down. It’s difficult to breathe.

Why be when I can’t be seen?
He might as well be invisible, the wallflower thinks to himself. He might as well disappear. He closes his eyes, leans against the wall and breathes out slowly. The space between him and the wall seems to grow less with every ounce of breath that escapes his being.
Conversation dials down to silence. Their eyes are glued to the sight of the wallflower melting into the wall. As his breath leaves his body, the wallflower gives in. He has had enough.
Transfixed, they move towards the wall, where there once stood a man.
“He’s so sad” they say among themselves.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful”

The man on the wall,” they call the mural. They come from around the world to gaze into the face of sadness. They stare at him for hours. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. For what? They didn’t know. But they don’t find it. Disappointment. Despair. Depression.
They’re search begins.


8 thoughts on “The Man on The Wall

  1. I must say…..i’m amazed by ur writing gal!

  2. Olive says:

    i have this feeling that sth deep was goin on in the article but i swear i just got mixed up n floated thru it 🙂

  3. mulu_ says:

    Nice read…bt I don’t get it-U should do a follow-up to explain the meaning

  4. Hedwig says:

    what, you r writing of a mural but are you the muralist?

  5. eye-v says:

    🙂 great piece

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