Realizing, that you have unknowingly worn a mask of impenetrable happiness for so long that people feel you talk about problems only to make your friends feel like they are not alone in sadness. Being proud, of having unwittingly fulfilled the one dream your parents had for you. And then wanting to rebel and disillusion them.
Alcohol is not meant for everybody. Especially those who cocoon themselves up to a point that they forget what they were hiding from.
#Lesson for today: I can handle my alcohol and my shit without keeping myself bottled up. It's apparently a skill.
When men and dogs go out and have riotous love affairs with women, no one raises an eyebrow. It's expected of them, is it not? That they shall forever be casanova's and reign o'er the world of us women with power?
And when women have nothing more than a casual chat with another man/dog, we are questioned and sniffed with an air of hurt and sorrow that can surpass Macbeth. The eccentricity of it all. When shall it end?
#Lesson for today: Don't go for those puppy eyes. They're very clever.
Me and father are very environmentally conscious and off late having been making attempts to reduce the carbon footprint and conserve water. We also donate a small sum towards animal conservation; GreenPeace et al. Mother's daily water consumption could save a decent hand holding in Vidarbha from drought. I shit you not. The woman simply dumps water like it was garbage. Not to mention the amount of plastic bottles she leaves in the trail behind her. And if we stopped her purchases of clothes each month, we could in effect donate a lot more to charity than we are at the moment.
But being the classist, elitist, uncaring, unconcerned, "I-Shall-Live-In-My-Shell" person that she has become, our fights will continue for many more years to come.
#Lesson for today: Parents. Selfish, Socially Unaware, Irresponsible. And then they have the nerve to tell us off.
#Lesson for today: I'm starting to accept my friend's conclusion that I am an evil thing.
Imagine, its wings now lay broken and it bleeds away all it had accumulated in the name of life. It opens its mouth to speak but only broken rattles escape, reminiscent of the ghost from Grudge. Grim Reaper arrives, counting down the last minutes of life as a frenzied panic erupts in the heart of the moth. The realization of death is not easy to bear.
Imagine it gulping for air and softly dying, losing the precious shine from eyes, one Microsoft word page at a time. Imagine, the cruel world laughing at its feeble attempts to wake up and live. One last time, struggle to live.
Now imagine, that little moth is me doing research.