Just a beginning
The Beginning
I don't know where to begin or what to write but it was deep within me for quite a long time now. I want to unburden me.The heaviness of my thoughts is growing day by day, along with it the unending chain of frustration. The frustration starts from a time, when I had great trouble starting a conversation with a girl.And you might probably know what happens next when this feeling is combined with emotions of puberty. Or maybe in short you can call it either the shyness or the cowardice.But the end result is the same, whatever you call me.Well I am long past those times, still I don't know why I am bringing you back to those lovely period of my life. I am telling you where my finger tips are taking you.
The frustration occurs when you are not able to do what your mind asks you to do,or when you are not able to perform to a level that you aspires to be.Well in my case both are true. I am not doing what my mind is telling me ,or performing well in any aspects of my so called beautiful life.Some times I feel like dragging a mere existence all along, hoping for a beautiful end. Then what is it that my mind asks me to do?. "Stop doing this to you". This is one of those many things that it is telling me. I never thought in my entire life that a situation such as this will ever occur to me.
Let me tell you about me , at least what I think about me. I am not a quite guy, so there were lots of friends around me every now and then. They used to tease me like hell, and I kind of enjoyed it.This part of my life is called being an attention seeker. I used to tease myself before everyone else in the same way they used to tease me. I don't know why I did that. Then I noticed it. I am making everybody laugh,and I felt as I was becoming an important part of everybody's school life, people are actually waiting for me to say something stupid so that they can have a good time teasing me. I tried to get more and more of people's attention by degrading me.This was the me four years back.
Even now as then my brother's voice echoed in my mind, "brother your writing is just an outpour of words which are mostly disconnected". I remember the exact moment when this happened, I was sitting against a wall watching my brother correcting my another piece of junk more or less similar to this junk you are reading right now. Then I thought it was a very bad remark but now I understand it was indeed a great compliment from a brother like him who rarely appreciates me. It's not because he hates me but because his expectations from me are quite high ,higher than what I expect from me. An outpour of words which are mostly disconnected, that's how life is ,- An outpour of incidents which are mostly disconnected like hell. The only connection these incidents have in between is the feeling I have when I am passing through each incident. Always I was like "why these fucks are always happening to me only".
I have no idea what I am doing now . I have given the title as the beginning, started something from somewhere and after roaming here and there for quite a while and finally to end this shit I am writing what you are reading right now. Quite disconnected it seems, but in between these lines you can map the real me who is writing this.
Even now as then my brother's voice echoed in my mind, "brother your writing is just an outpour of words which are mostly disconnected". I remember the exact moment when this happened, I was sitting against a wall watching my brother correcting my another piece of junk more or less similar to this junk you are reading right now. Then I thought it was a very bad remark but now I understand it was indeed a great compliment from a brother like him who rarely appreciates me. It's not because he hates me but because his expectations from me are quite high ,higher than what I expect from me. An outpour of words which are mostly disconnected, that's how life is ,- An outpour of incidents which are mostly disconnected like hell. The only connection these incidents have in between is the feeling I have when I am passing through each incident. Always I was like "why these fucks are always happening to me only".
I have no idea what I am doing now . I have given the title as the beginning, started something from somewhere and after roaming here and there for quite a while and finally to end this shit I am writing what you are reading right now. Quite disconnected it seems, but in between these lines you can map the real me who is writing this.
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