Sometimes, you just have the perfect topic to write upon. Two hours back, my confused self was surfing the net as usual for unmentionable stuff. A report here, an article there, facebook, twitter, blog etc when I landed upon one of the most neglected and cornered points of a social site, the About Me section. And to my surprise, it was blank on my profile.
Several thoughts flooded my brains, some aptly describing me, some way away from the actual me, still trying to convince me that it was the 'right thing' to write. To be at loggerheads with your own self about your own self is the worst nightmare. For around ten minutes, I could not write even a word. And I was really aggrieved. You spend valuable time and incessant amount of energy trying to scribble amazing poems, the most sought after fiction and yet you fail to write things that describe your own self! Wriggling defeat in my own self, and with a disturbed conscience, I frantically drank a glass of water carrying a heavy breath.
Several minutes later, I penned down something. I do not know whether it is conclusive of what I actually am. Amidst a disappointing state of affairs, my heart began to shrink. I wore a heavy sense of defeat in me, almost crying to the damn thought of failing to describe what I myself am. Banging down the laptop lid, I ran to the balcony all disappointed, frantic and cold. Saved by my mothers call for breakfast, I soon disappeared down the hall.
Instead of a relief, the breakfast turned out to be a disaster. I left the table wondering whether I even deserve to be the elder son. Zillion questions swarmed my brain, rendering my confidence to its knees and myself, huh, to no damn where. I was lost, worried for my parents future, and indebted to my younger brother for supporting the family in my absence. To what I should have been, that kid has performed exceptionally well being that. It was like, an amalgamation of pride and disappointment. A lethal mixture of vanity and stress. Vanity and stress, both together call themselves a fiery comet of depression. And I was riding on that. I am riding on that.
And about me, well, that is a fraction of it for now. Actually, I havent even begun. My fear has no bounds right now. I have never ever felt so helpless and vulnerable, as far as my love for my family goes.
Anyway, I hope to scribble down more during my train journey. And well, thats about me for now, my car is waiting.
Several thoughts flooded my brains, some aptly describing me, some way away from the actual me, still trying to convince me that it was the 'right thing' to write. To be at loggerheads with your own self about your own self is the worst nightmare. For around ten minutes, I could not write even a word. And I was really aggrieved. You spend valuable time and incessant amount of energy trying to scribble amazing poems, the most sought after fiction and yet you fail to write things that describe your own self! Wriggling defeat in my own self, and with a disturbed conscience, I frantically drank a glass of water carrying a heavy breath.
Several minutes later, I penned down something. I do not know whether it is conclusive of what I actually am. Amidst a disappointing state of affairs, my heart began to shrink. I wore a heavy sense of defeat in me, almost crying to the damn thought of failing to describe what I myself am. Banging down the laptop lid, I ran to the balcony all disappointed, frantic and cold. Saved by my mothers call for breakfast, I soon disappeared down the hall.
Instead of a relief, the breakfast turned out to be a disaster. I left the table wondering whether I even deserve to be the elder son. Zillion questions swarmed my brain, rendering my confidence to its knees and myself, huh, to no damn where. I was lost, worried for my parents future, and indebted to my younger brother for supporting the family in my absence. To what I should have been, that kid has performed exceptionally well being that. It was like, an amalgamation of pride and disappointment. A lethal mixture of vanity and stress. Vanity and stress, both together call themselves a fiery comet of depression. And I was riding on that. I am riding on that.
And about me, well, that is a fraction of it for now. Actually, I havent even begun. My fear has no bounds right now. I have never ever felt so helpless and vulnerable, as far as my love for my family goes.
Anyway, I hope to scribble down more during my train journey. And well, thats about me for now, my car is waiting.
