A rainy night.

I can hear the clouds thunder as the rain lashes against the window panes. I listen…
Listen to the sounds of the silent walls that make up the room I am sitting in. I think…because... if I don’t then I will perish.

In one corner of the room, wilted flowers stand drooping in the vase. It’s not much of a vase, actually! Just an old…curvy bottle that contained alcohol at one time. I think about the wilted flowers. Despite the fact that they have lost the charm they once had, literally and figuratively, they look good because they help me get into the cocoon called The Past. A past that gave me a lot of things to cherish. Lots of things that made life a lot simpler than it is now.

School. That’s one chapter of a person’s past that is cherished forever. The sheer oblivion that one lies in. home work…well it’s a pain, no doubt but then…that is a different genre of fun in itself. Living on a shoestring budget and those little souvenirs bought from the tiny amounts of money called allowance. It surely was fun. On the other hand, now…I am earning money on my own…and money that’s considerably more. Much more…but there is an inexplicable void somewhere. No…it’s not the void that is caused by the lack of romance in life…neither is the void that is caused by lack of company or the so-called fun. That’s why I said that it’s kind of…inexplicable.

College life again has a different charm! The women watching and all the related craziness. But now…feels like the days are creeping towards me at a murderous pace. I continue to fight. Some battles have been won…some have been lost…but something tells me that the war is yet to some.

I lie on the bed and think. Think of ways to conquer. I strategize. I make plans. Looks like I am trying to beat myself at something. What…? I do not know. As the cigarette burns in my hand, I feel my life melting away in the smoke. Slow and steady melting. So very painfully slow. But now…I feel the sweet pain that I felt in school.

Today, I have converted my hobby into a profession. Into the means of earning my bread and butter…and jam...and sausages. I have forgotten to write for pleasure now. Now…I write…my hands spell words on the page according to people’s whims and fancies. People…who pay me to do that. Sometimes…I wonder if I still remember how to write from the heart or is it only my mind that’s doing all the work?! As more documents lie on one side of my bed…as I write this piece…I feel like giving it all up…and running. Just running till I am tired…worn out…broken…wilted. But I can’t! Alas! I just can not!

As I try to lose myself in my thoughts…I end this piece now. I shall come back…hopefully with more pleasant things to write about.

Adios.