A deep, droning voice woke me from my sleep. My eyes opened to the darkness. The voice smelt distinctly of chicken ribs and beer. The voice of my conscience, jumbled, confused, excusing itself in self-delusion, and hiding in an indefinite indistinguishable lump of black fuming air. Right on my right.
It's not the first time my conscious angel has failed to take my early morning call. Whenever she does make it, it's in this apologetic garb of helplessness. No wonder, early morning 5 am messages, mails, and calls, have all failed to make the cut for me.
I am nearing 23. I am slightly apologetic for all the things I haven't done. Ruefully regretful of a few things I have. Proudly deviant from normal norms of behavior, severely challenged by people issues (my friend says so!), deeply involved in useless life philosophies, and hopelessly indifferent to priority.
But I am learning. That's the best part. While learning, all my mistakes can be neatly packaged into one giant whole bag labeled "Experience" which shall be opened for the purpose of spontaneous advice. And for kids.
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7 comments:
hmm. kids. hmmm. good.
papa speaketh! :)
how R R you?
parents speaking.. though both of you disown me publicly i shall not give up..
such cynicism @ 23? tch tch tch - wait till you are older...
looking forward to being wiser :)
Which beer was that man :P
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