There’s this girl… and whenever I see her, I want to tell her something… to comfort her, to make her understand that whatever is happening is but a figment in the bigger scheme of things… but I can’t… because I am not sure I am evolved enough to accept that myself… Preach about it, yes I can.
She is 24… She has dreams… The last time I checked, she had ‘em in her eyes, in her gait, wrapped in her laughter… she wanted to fly away, live on her own, experience life with her arms wide open…
I was 24 once… I had the same dreams… I was dying inside to come alive… it took me crazy sleepless nights, immeasurable chunk of tears, a couple of health ailments to finally believe that there’s no limit, but the sky… But this is where the similarity ends… she is braver, lovelier and at least, by the looks of it, more stable… How do I know that for sure? Because she just lost her father… Someone she was closest to… Her world is falling apart… and she is still standing…
She is just the way she was (before it all came tumbling down)… calm exterior, confused, funny and at times, girly and giggly… She still stops midway while saying something, the way she has always been… is still the cutest person around and the colored contacts that she sometimes wears still don’t suit her one bit… But if you take a closer look, you realize, she is grappling to make sense of it all… disintegrating in instalments… present or past, she is not sure which tense to use while talking about her real life hero… Time has played its infamous trick on her, a little too soon.
The philosopher in me knows that she is luckier than most people I see every day… those who sleep on the roads, who don’t have a choice but to sell their souls… but no loss is too small, no gain too whole.