They had warned me about it.
So, I was not expecting much.
When I made the decision,
their warnings, I remembered.
“Love is overrated”, someone had said.
“It will be hard work”, another had warned.
“Enter without expectations”, a once-a-romantic friend advised.
and then the others joined.
It was same thing twice and thrice.
“Love is not fancy words,
butterflies in the stomach.
Two days pass
and everyone cries.”
Now that I am here with you,
I have finally realised.
“Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Just how much they all were wrong.”
His father had forced him to become an engineer. At least that was how he liked to tell the tale. That earned him different responses from people. Most of them were sympathetic—outwardly! Otherwise, they were only hiding different judgements behind, “Aw, I am sorry. It must be hard to live somebody else’s dream.” The real thoughts were not so polite though and ranged from, “he was not strong enough to fight for it” or “he must not have wanted the other thing bad enough to get it” or “he is just an ungrateful child” and the most common one being “he is simply showing off his professional degree.” The last thought was mostly the creation of business graduates.
the only genuine sympathy he got was in fact empathy, from the other souls who thought they shared his misery—apparently they never wanted to be what they had turned out to be either.
However, all of this whining for what could have been was nothing more than a defence mechanism. It was one way of living life—his way. Because, years later, when his father was not there to stop him from pursuing his dreams, and when people started responding to his whining with, “Why don’t you start anew? Live your dream now”, he realised the ugly truth.
He did not have a dream—never had one, to begin with!
Lately, my comfort zone has become rather uncomfortable. It is like that guy whose car broke down in the middle of the road. He knows very well that it is only a manifestation of his own negligence. However, the strangers pushing his car—assisting him in restarting it, do not have the slightest clue. They are genuinely concerned, unaware of the fact that he does that on a regular basis.
For him, it is a comfort that there is not much chance of their meeting him again. Thus, he qould continue to recieve the sympathetic assistance. Even if they did meet, he can always pretend to not recall them. That would be pretty easy.
What if the helpers found each other some day?
The comfort zone is growing pretty uncomfortable.
Told you, didn’t I?