For quite sometime now, I have been flattering myself. I am my parents' thought frankenstein; I am society's big bad parasite; I am this anti-social misanthrope, sporting a fashionable liberal scorn and an attitude of shying away from solutions.
It has worked well with me. I have, at various instances, been termed as being unsocial, and being unfit for any role in the family or in society. Little do my parents realise that this is what I've been working towards, consciously or otherwise.
My beliefs are conjuring acts, of beliefs coming into existence where none existed, and where there isn't a need for one. They don't appear to fill in the created vacuum; they appear to create a vacuum. Their appearance and the subsequent hasty abandoning have become the defining aspect of my life.
Earthquake strike South Asia. 30,000 feared dead
I don't know what it is to be in an earthquake. I don't know what it means to be struck down unexpectedly. I don't know what losing my house means to me. The worst thing that happened to me was my first accident. First accidents have a strange and callous way of reminding you of your primal fears. I knew I had to cry, but didn't know why. I knew this was a big moment, but couldn't quite say how.
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