I write about myself yet again. Why shouldn’t I ? I have had all the time in the world to observe the subject in close quarters. It is one of those nostalgic moods, listening to songs reminiscing school days, watch tv and go to bed with only one worry – how many teachers are going to be absent?! Life was so peachy and cocooned that even the thought of missing it was ridiculous. Now, not so much. Life has passed in a blur. Even the modest beginnings of growing wings, flapping and falling down has left no scar. But today, one of these bleak moods, makes you realize that the wings weren’t real. You were hallucinating while being in crutches the whole time! When in doubt, I would usually ask my mother for advice, simple because I had no internet and the unfaltering faith in her judgement. Today I’m able to see a gut wrenching post about a hungry orphan in the streets of the war torn parts of the world and a happy couple welcoming their new bundle of joy. I’m compelled to do my part for the less fortunate, those without mothers to depend on. However, some invisible force holds me back. I can’t break the shackles of my origin. My future success or the lack of it is going to be graduated on a rusty old scale of customs and norm. My existence right now feels futile.
Life in a blur and still blurry