I am running away from reality, as fast as i could.
and trying not to look back, so as to prevent my eye from tearing.
Seven Saturdays: First Saturday
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Its because I've become a failure, I can dream of being a winner...
I have been walking aimlessly for the last couple of hours. There are so many things in my mind that it feels like my brain has become a tangled web of wires. My aimless wandering found me standing right in the middle of the railway station. It was busy with the Saturday crowd where everyone wanted to be somewhere else. It seemed like everyone likes elsewhere better than where they actually are. I find myself an empty bench in front of the platform's exit. I have read in papers about people ending their life by throwing themselves in front of a fast moving train. It was an good option for me too. I liked this station. There was a comfort amongst the strangers, a serenity in the noise and felt like this station had a life of its own. I talked to the station; about me, my life, my perspectives and my dreams. I wasn't surprised when the station replied. I started to speak; I have been an average person all along. Average at academics, in sports, looks or any other extra curricular activities. I knew that being an average student, I had disappointed my parents. They never said it to me in person, but the hurried whispers between them in the kitchen corner or exchange of disappointed looks whenever they saw my report card were pretty much hard to miss. It tore my heart to hear my parents discussing my failure with our relatives. It was as if they were reasoning out my failures on my incapability of being number one. I have tried so hard to meet the expectations of my family and live up to their standards. But each time, I end up falling short of an inch or two. Number two/three might be a very good position in a class of forty, but it’s definitely not the number of a winner. What's the big deal about winning always anyway? At one point life happens. At that time, who cares if you were number one or two or last in your class. All that matters is, are you able to deal with it. I am sure every class in each school has a kid like me. Average looks, average in studies, easy to pick on. The cliche scares me. I wonder if there is a meaning to my existence at all; apart from being an anti-thesis to the number one student of my class. It's not like I am being pessimistic; that's how it has been till now. A monotony of everything. Even cliches. The voice of the station was like humming of old machinery that moved in a slow pace. “We are all searching for a meaning to our lives. Yes, we all do. It’s not like we are born knowing the reason for our existence, but I know that it’s something that we pick up along the way. I believe that there are more reasons to live than all the people in this world. You will find that reason some day, in all your hopes and dreams, in your work, with the people you associate and care about and every thing you do. Even if the reason you find is hazy or unclear or is so tiny that you can hardly see, it still is enough for you to live, to move on. Even being an anti-thesis for your classmate is a reason good enough for you to be in that class. At least, it gives you a dream of being number one someday. Go start finding a reason to your life; I hate to be the cause of end of a young life.” I walked out of the station without even entering the platform. Next week, I promised myself.
Next Saturday: It's because I know that I can be scared at times, gives me a courage to face difficulties.