Harangue

This blank document right now looks exactly like my surroundings, calm, serene and blank. I feel myself to be an alien among millions of invisible people and infinite emptiness. Firstly I’m missing my guitar and charcoal pencils. I’m not great at both of them, but they act my mute friends and my vent for emotions. Truly speaking I’m not so much fond of people around me, but I guess God has overheard my wishes and has given me an extra amount of isolation. I regret the decision taken out of a fit of emotion, and contempt my arrogance that pushed me to continue with that decision. My hunt for happiness and bliss, and the urge to flee from the burden of memories have landed me into a forlorn world. I find myself amazed while taking down the university counselor’s phone number, and the funniest thing is I did while sitting in an auditorium filled with at least a thousand people. Each time I meet with a person, the desire to reverse the time increases, instilling a realization inside me about whom and what I have left behind. Unknowingly my desire to return back is increasing with the number of days I’m living in this forsaken world. I blame no one but myself for this situation. I’m too arrogant to give in, too stubborn to admit, but too weak to push myself further into this disdain. I feel I had overestimated my capacity to adjust to this situation. In such moments you only wish to relive your lost moments with your eyes closed, trying to catch the single happy days you passed by, hoping to time to freeze forever. The cruel theory of this world is that you have your golden time passing by within a wink of an eye, and the bad phase has their legs too heavy. They adopt the speed of molasses...