the big inconvenience.

It was a terrible dream and you want to cry. Your fears haunt you even in your sleep. Then you wake up to face the bigger nightmare – one that won’t go away. Reality.

Every day you find yourself wishing that the world would suddenly come to an end – with its child molesters, its politicians, its perverted justice and the whole dog-eat-dog material system altogether, so you wouldn’t have to face the pressure of striving everyday to become the person that other people want you to be. But because you believe in heaven and hell and the lost souls who need a chance to repent, you hastily reprove yourself for your selfish and twisted thoughts and set your mind on other things - such as your room.

You look around you and you realize that you haven’t been cleaning for days. You tidy up a bit and then you decide to go to the grocery to buy food that would last you for a week. You remember to do everything inconsequential (like lunch and the laundry) while carefully avoiding the nagging questions in your head. “What do I do with my study?”, “Is this what I really want?”, “What am I supposed to be?”and “What am I living for, anyway?” are all huddled in the other corner of the room silently watching your performance.

You refuse to look. You’re now busy typing down a blog about your dismal life that nobody would read. You feel the weight in your chest dragging you down. Down, beneath the sheets and the foam and the wood, beneath the vinyl and the cement, beneath the pipes and the earth.

You remember the boy with the storm cloud eyes. You remember the unpainted houses around you and the gravel beneath your feet. You remember the taste of the rain and its pelting down your skin. You remember the crashing of the waves on the banks, and the storm cloud eyes inspecting, the wind flirting with your hair. You remember the good old days when you didn’t have to toil and everything was handed free. You remember the nightly walk beneath the stars when there didn’t use to be street lights. You remember the conversations with a beloved whom nobody else saw, whispered, so other people wouldn’t think you’re crazy. You remember being so in-love that you could strap on a bomb and die screaming right then and there (which of course is pointless).

And all of a sudden, you realize that all your troubles started when you decided to grow up and become your own.