I do not want to feel it; But every early morning A certain restlessness creeps into my bed Gently stroking the surface of my head Sending down tingles of misery, Paralysing every trinket of hope. What could it be, I wonder Desperately finding a way around the fact But alas, temporary consolation Is now falling short in covering the act It has been you, just you Victorious, both in capturing my fancy And making me feel inadequate. You, and your uninhibited ways - Refreshing and reckless, And nonchalant (and demeaning) demeanour Were never for me. How could I be so wrong? When I saw you then, I thought about possibilities When I see you now, I think about my flaws. I do not want to feel it; But I feel resentment. For wounding me in your own strange way For making it seem like it will never go away And for lingering and hovering like a bunch of moths Around any found r...
To harbour an idea, (I won’t say dream for that seems needlessly embellished for this piece) for a good many days, months and even years, having gone through very distinct phases – of thinking it in the first place, of establishing it as one to pursue, of wanting to act upon it but not, of acting upon it and failing, to actually achieving it has served as an eye opener of the first order for me, and though I don’t completely comprehend its ramifications, here’s what I have understood so far. For once in all my years, I set out to chase something that I believed (and believe) would ultimately become my profession. At last, to the relief of many and myself, I had a singular direction and the only visible trajectory was forwards in a linear motion. Though I am not one for jotting notes, it was all charted in my mind, organized according to serial number, colour and topic. I’d do the usual and achieve something mind-bogglingly grand. I’d escape the nest to find my calling and...
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