I am not happy. I have never been truly happy since I left school.

Yes, school was tough, too. But, at least, there has always been the light at the end of the tunnel. That I’ll be doing something of my choice once I pass out.

So, what’s wrong with my subject? Nothing, I suspect, except the fact that it’s not my subject. Noble profession? Maybe. But the fact is, it requires interaction with people to achieve its full meaning. Voluntary, interested interaction. Which I do not enjoy.

In fact, what is really wrong is that I don’t care about people. Yes, I don’t like to see them hurt. Much less to be responsible for it. It weighs on my conscience, I suppose. But it has, I know, always been about me – ‘my’ conscience. I’m a self absorbed wretch. Period. I don’t hate people, no, don’t get me wrong. I’m just indifferent to them – I wish I wouldn’t have to interact with them any more than necessary. I wish I would be left alone.

But the strange thing is, I have had, and am having, really really great people around me all these years of my life. I’ve been lucky to be blessed with the acquaintance of some of the best people in the world, in every way…yet I have grown up to be what I am, today.

The problem, of course, lies with me. It is a double-edged knife.

(1)    I shouldn’t have been the way I am, with the circumstances that I’ve grown up in. But I can’t change that, I guess. Ego sum qui sum.

(2)    I should have let people know what I am. I doubt anybody could – or indeed, would – have stopped me from doing what I want. But the truth is, I’m a coward. I hide myself to please others. I justify myself by saying that I hate hurting people, but that’s just an excuse.

The truth is, I cower from making decisions. I let people throw their weight around me. I let others take my life’s decisions, hoping against hope that they would turn out to be correct. Or, believing that, ‘in the long run, there’s still time to change the road you’re on’. Or at the very least, someone to blame for the dead end. And, I must admit, my luck has always held.

But, I fear that this time round, my luck has run out. I’m on my own. Maybe without even a prayer to help me on my way.

There isn’t Another Road. This one’s a Dead End. And the only one to be Blamed is me.

Fuck. Who did I think I was? Lord Luck?

(P.S. One last thing: I do hate hurting people. I’m not claiming that as an excuse to my behaviour. But yes, I do want people around me to be happy. Very much.)

(P.P.S. I believed tremendously in myself, that I’m blessed with excellence. That belief still exists, albeit in a very diminished form. So, maybe I’ll survive  this dead end too. And find a way out.

Here’s to that much-hoped-for-and-non-existent-as-of-yet way.)

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