I find a pattern that I want to break. It’s the same story repeated over time, at different locations, with different people and the same me. Somewhere down the lane I even stopped blaming others. I agree it was time I did, but there is a certain bliss in stupidity, in the pretense of ignorance. It offers a safe haven one would not want to exit, but exit one must. What stares at me are faults, shortcomings, the existence of which is known to me to the extent of the generic abstract intangibles they are. Beyond that, once again, I move blindfolded, groping and cursing others for putting things in my way.And I suffer loneliness, an isolation I wish I could leave behind but I can’t make up my mind as to whether this is a curse or a gift. If I can assure myself of this being a greedy need, then I would be happy. No, I am not sad but I am happy only in pockets. Is it wrong to want all my pockets to be full with things I want? I crave for bonding as I see it around me but what to do to satisfy the craving, that’s something I don’t know. And maybe, I don’t need to.
A little bird tells me it’s better this way and I have half a mind to believe it. I just pray for conviction to reach me faster than despondence.
