Growing Old.


In the movies, especially when there is this moment of realization, when the lead actor has an epiphany about life, he’s shown as the one person in a crowded street, facing a sea of humanity as they rush past him in their black or grey clothes, while he looks perplexed/afraid/annoyed/whatever based on his histrionic abilities, while a bright red scarf unwinds itself from his neck. Cue the inspirational/sorrowful/suspense music.

I am in such a close up and then tracking shot right now. Except, maybe if the production values were reversed. I am the one in the black dress looking perplexed, as people, family, friends, acquaintances rush past in their colorful chic clothes, creating this storm of chatter and yet not really calling out to me. I think it suits me just fine. I want to be left alone. I do not want to make meaningless conversation. I want to just sit on my bed, watch marathon TV shows, drink endless cups of tea and occasionally check email.

Nothing interests me any longer. Nothing except American television. And pop music. And the Internet.

But that’s it. I find most people tiresome, boring. I can’t talk about my feelings or dreams because I fear they will not be understood. I am losing interest in my job. I do not want to be told sit here, walk there, eat now, pay now. The money I earn is not even mine. It goes directly into EMIs, groceries, electricity bills, things for the family, a broken shower head. I think twice before putting up a blog post, worrying people will say I am selfish, I am a horrible person, how dare I write such things etc. Imagine that. I fear the potential words of strangers I probably will never meet. Every word I think of is analyzed carefully to ensure there won’t be anger as retaliation. I am a coward. I am terrified of confrontation.

I hate it when I intently explain something that means a lot to me to a friend, and then get a pale washed out opinion in response. Why can’t people try harder? Here I am, telling you why something made me think out aloud, why that something made me care, and all you can say is oh okay? Oh okay? What sort of response is that? Why are people so lazy that they have stopped thinking? Or caring?

10 days before I turn 26 and a quarter life crisis already. Great.

One Response to “Growing Old.”

  1. 1 Raj

    I can’t talk about my feelings or dreams because I fear they will not be understood.

    Yo…never give up on this..There are likely more interested people than you realize that could just get inspired by hearing the dreams of yours..


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