Is life ever easy? I guess, for me, it will never be. For, I must admit, that I am luckier than most in being granted almost every wish- even then, I lead a life of confusion, angst and mostly, 'anticipatory consternation'. I meet trouble halfway, half-heartedly, which doesn't help, except being proud of the 'anticipatory' part of it.
I am resigned to a permanent state of heightened tension and a constant yearning for the peace of mind. Which, if attained, even for the briefest of periods, generated the same 'concerns'- for simply put, how can I be peaceful? It must be the calm before the storm, or am I forgetting something?
Apart from that is the often enough reminder that life flashes as regards the weakness of my soul and the hypocrisy of my being. I wallow in the mires of self-pity, alternating between the 'wanna-be popular guy' and the 'proud Bohemian'. Can I allow myself a smirk that I am not one but two steps ahead of the world? But then why does my heart ache for company and frivolity?
The answers are not easy. The catharsis continues, in dribs and drabs, in drops and ampoules.
Am I having a good time? Am I having a better time than others? Have I convinced others that I am having a better time than them?
I think I should shut up- stop thinking.
I think I should just write.
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