At 0038

Didn’t think that a conversation about happy times might just end up pondering over difficult and trying periods in life. I thought i could handle it – instead of sharing something, because in all honesty – i dont think there is anything interesting in a city life, and a pool of memories built of paper towns and paper roads.

But then this conversation inevitably reminds that people have had it worse than i did, in life. And still they go on, still they try, and more than ever they are resilient.

Moping over woes of growing up – high school days, torturous trainings under the raging sun, a first heartbreak, and downfalls in junior college and results, which altogether seem more minute than the grains of sand, or sacks of barley that had to be carried on the shoulders of another. That’s the way life is –

but why am i a person as such – obviously my heart should be full for all that i have, an abundance of company, attention, friendships, family, a house and a bed, and education, and a safe haven. Yet, there are voids within, that even cement cannot plaster.


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