Spare me the Doubt

My hair? No, I’ve never had it cut. Ever. That’s right. Not since I was born.

But wait.  Why do you guys want to know so much about my hair? What’s so peculiar about it anyway? You guys are so weird.

Hair grows and keeps gowing because God meant it to. Why cut it off, I ask you. Is it a crime to let it grow? Does it lead to crime?

Yeah. That’s me. Living in this same room since I was a kid. Not wanting to go anywhere. What for?

There’s a clock in this room, have you noticed? And a window.  Don’t know if it opens. Haven’t tried to in a while. Don’t want to. Why let in the dust?

The clock, though. The clock is really useful. It gives me something to look at. I study the second hand, tick by tick. Sometimes I don’t take my eyes off it until it has gone full circle – once, twice, thrice – around the timepiece. I tell you, it’s so absorbing I hardly have time for anything else.

I am so curious. Curious and envious. When is the second hand going to stop? Does it ever get tired? I stare and stare, envious of the way it inches forward, round and round, an endless revolution.

What am I envious of? You won’t understand. But it’s like this: Second meets Minute oh so many times on its circular path, but Second never even stops to  greet Minute. It just goes its own way. Second is never bothered by the fact that Minute gets to catch its breath and chill. Never bothered that it has to be the faster one always. Never says, Life is so unfair! Second just gets on with it.

Frankly, unlike you, Second has no curiosity about anything or anyone, not even about Minute.

So, yes, I stay in my room because I don’t want to see anyone. But you – you keep wanting, keep trying desperately, to see me.

You ask so many questions. About this and that. About my fifteen-foot long hair.

And you’ll go on making a big deal about it, telling everyone about me, as soon as you leave this room.

You’re all so strange to me. So peculiar. Not that I care. I’d rather watch time, thank you. Watch the endless journey of the second hand around that globe of a clock.

Leave me be, why don’t you? Go do your job. Go look for one if you don’t have one yet. It’s never too late.

Enough now. Really.  Please leave.

Myay Hmone Lwin
Edited by Wendy Law-Yone