It doesn’t matter

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It was a usual evening with nothing unusual around. Lights were as usual dimmed; curse the khaseli solar batteries, the room was cold as it has been, the bed seemed reluctant as usual to radiate some warmth. Still there was something in the air, and some feeling within me that that patted my back and whispered ‘you have made home again’ and made me feel that the day was worth it.
I threw the bag away, and my hands followed my eyes for my usuals to put on. They were there, at the same place and in the same condition, I had left them. Untouched and unscrambled.
I got something good in my belly and there I was under the cold covers that were waiting to soak the warmth that I had earned through the day. There was no denying, had to allow to prey on it, if I wanted to remain warm through the night. So while the covers were soaking the warmth from me, and while my legs were quivering to find any warm corners inside it, hopelessly, I noticed that my roommate was hanging dead.

This is what youth must figure out:Girls, love, and living.The having, the not having,The spending and giving,And the meloncholy time of not knowing.
This is what age must learn about:The ABC of dying.The going, yet not going,The loving and leaving,And the unbearable knowing and knowing
― E.B. White

Meet my ex roommate- the spider. He never shared the room rent and I swear he never greeted me when I was home. But he watched me down from the ceiling while I thought, while I worked and while I slept. He was a partner in my happy moments, in my melancholic ones and in my drunken stupors. He was there when I had started this blog; he was there above me in those nights when I contemplated on the context that paved the way for me to start writing. A long time friend, a friend of dark hours but still stranger.
Despite language barriers between us, I somewhere felt we were not complete strangers. I have always pondered why I felt a sense of one-ness with this creature. Now when it’s hanging on its own web, lifeless and listless, I understand the ‘one-ness’ between us. Back in the days, it was busy in weaving those webs very meticulously. This web represented the desire it had of preying on other insects to fullfil its own carnal desires.
Desires are they only with us, humans? In those days I never gave a thought to it. I thought I, as a human, could only desire. I was weaving web of desires for myself. I was devising a web to fulfil my carnal desires, much like my roommate.  The web that if responded the way we wanted it to would deliver our desires, but if time acted otherwise, would prey on its own creator. I realize the latter part now. Recollections of my own entanglements don’t speak otherwise either. We share the same fate. Only it was late to track back and even more unfortunate for not getting another chance.
It was a victim to its own desire. Just like me, just like you. We are all products, growth and victim of a huge web of desires that we weave with much hope and aspiration. Some feed us, some feed on us. We continue desiring until we rest in peace. And, it does not matter at all. It goes on.
Up there in the web,
Hangs its creator,
Listless and lifeless
And yet liberated
From desires. 

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