“It takes a lot to kill a person and it takes a lot more to kill him while he is still alive.”
Once when I was five, I remember I lost a competition where I had to draw a fish.
I drew a fish but I pictured it in a plate because that’s how i had seen it.
I lost of course, cause I never realised all that matters is winning the game even if you lose in life.
What is your story?
Or do you even have a story?
Or let me guess, you are copying someone else’s story? Or worse, you are in someone else’s story?
Is it grades you are running behind or people?
But what actually.
All these efforts and motivation stuffed in your bag pack.
A luggage filled with dream or should I say dreams?
All these sacrifices, this mask of maturity knowing that this age and this you will never come back, will never wait for you to get into a good Institute or get a great job or a life you imagined for yourself.
All these decisions you take which are not even yours, all these choices you make which you don’t even want.
All these wishes for which you tell yourself to wait.
Is this ambitious or clairvoyant?
Or maybe you don’t know because, heck it, you don’t think the counterpart, you just walk along because someone, walked this before and became something you guess you will too.
So you are copying his story without even trying to scribble your own?
And all for one day, when you are finally done with the academics ( the sum of degrees all the family members planned for you to achieve)
And you tangle yourself up with someone else of not so different kind.
When you are stuck finally because you thought grades and motivation you had in your days promised you a cool, a very cool life.
A life you could own?
You don’t even enjoy your earned up capital and you have shares and parts
You finally grew up and allowed yourself to wish for things you want, you saw this isn’t how it looked back then.
You build up a house for a family you are now gonna create and mighty hell, you aren’t even ready for.
You don’t even believe and another day you are here, buying life securities, children securities, securities’ security and blah.
You are in a grocery store calculating the price after discount and looking at people around.
You have everything you have to buy on the list and your favourite comes last, too last to be ignored.
And you suddenly hate yourself for not being good enough or to have the wrong imagination.
Until a day you see your children growing up and you do one last big mistake, you let them too, follow or copy.
You have no idea what to stop.
You have complaints with the way they are and their friends talk or you are just a grumpy parent who has no idea what it means to live, cause you never did.
You ran for life, a race to win nothing.
Or You won this onus,
This life and you still want all that you wanted 20 years back, but now, you aren’t alive anymore, are you?
All because you trusted yourself enough for cracking every hardship but you lost yourself when life talked about you.
You gave your ignorance another synonym called maturity, you called your career a predetermined path and your thought maths could give you the world.
Because, if we all were here to do similar things, why we would have been created unique?