Messy! That’s what defines me. I mess up when I am cooking or when I am getting dressed. You can see my cupboard full of endless piles of clothes or you can see my life! An endless pile of tensions, sorrows, stresses, fears and what not. What for??
All of it because I always wanted to be different, creative, perfect, one of a kind, making a niche space for myself and for my name. I have no interest in relationships other than the closest and dearest souls whom I called my family. I don’t have an interest in taking part in festivities or gossiping about somebody else’s life. I feel I am here for a purpose, for a reason, and I need to go after that. More so, I feel I am wasting my life, my time, I am getting old and haven’t reached anywhere yet. I have stopped counting my years because that makes me realize how less a time, I am left with.
I have this craving of seeing the world, experiencing cultures, talking and knowing different languages. Befriending people of different cultures, being in a stimulating environment. Something closer to nature, closer to different kinds of people.
I am a dreamer, I dream, I think, I write, that’s what I LOVE. But alas, I live in a real world, it requires survival, it requires money. I fear that this survival might just take over my dream. I feel I am lost chasing a dream that might erase in a puff of smoke from the pipe of a wealthy businessman.
I am here, sitting on my chair, not even a cubicle! In front of a computer, doing things I don’t feel satiated in, but I am. Locked in a space with no windows, or at least those that are covered with paper. I missed the rain yesterday, and that’s a huge miss! I didn’t even know what happened to the clouds while I was busy watching my screen changing colors.
Am I lost?? Or is it just because I am messy? Messy in a world where you need to pay for everything clean? So either earn or stay a mess. I would rather choose the latter because it was chaos from which the world was thus created.
All I hope is that I don’t die in this mess, I make my own space. A space filled with experiences, and story’s and fulfillment, a grave with a happy soul.