While gazing non-essentially through the fog strained window, I recall. Concentric rings being virtually made in the air. I start to pull away in those spiral rings of memories. Joyful yet anxious, memorable yet clumsy, innocent yet juvenile, I had a childhood not like those of others. It was special. So special that its repercussions pulled me towards itself. As a child, life seemed to be a ready made dress, the one you get to wear when tailor is busy in delivering other orders. It was slow, winters were everlasting, school days were boring but yet it passed. Who we are today is a result of series of events that led us to this current place in space and time. But what was the driving force behind it? yet to be asked but from whom ?
Do we choose the life we want or wanted to live or we were just given one and were sent to this world? Maybe the answer lies in imperishable glass of doubts or maybe it’s beyond our reach. Have we ever tried to just ponder over the mere existence of ourselves? Why in this particular place in time, you are reading this absurd piece of mundane mind and occupying a space.
Some say, this life of ours is a vessel, to be served as a source of blessings from God to other species. Maybe we are not another brick in the wall, maybe we aren’t a waste of space, maybe our need was felt, maybe our life will impact another life or maybe we don’t actually chose the life we want to spend.
I ponder over and over again and yet fall into a deep pitfall of doubts.
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