Of Life and Hope

Luck and I aren’t exactly known for seeing eye-to-eye. This isn’t something I’m making up. Believe me, I wish it was. But over the last few years, it’s come to be accepted as a fact.

Among some of the more recent happenings (you know, apart from the bad career choices, fracture, meru-curse etc.):

A pigeon fell on me while I was having breakfast. Breakfast in a cafeteria. Breakfast in a closed cafeteria. A damned pigeon.

After months of procrastinating and worrying about my backbone, I finally managed to push myself out of bed a little earlier than usual on a Monday and head to my society’s gym. It was decided that day apparently, that the gym shall now remain closed on Mondays.

And today, I missed a dream opportunity, by a day.

Yeah I know. It sounds really stupid. Maybe I’m just a klutz. Maybe I’m just not organized. Maybe I’m not strong the way I’m supposed to be.

And maybe I’m just an over-analysing crib-pot.

But you know what, I give up.

I’m done fighting karma and luck and fate and the whole jingabang.

I’m tired of being confused and trying to find a logical explanation behind everything. I’m tired of nothing ever going right. I’m tired of making all the wrong decisions. I’m tired of defending my decisions to the whole world, when I no longer can defend them to myself.

I’m tired of hurting and disappointing people. I’m tired of not being who I’m expected to be. I’m tired of running away from people who are only trying to help.

I’m tired of believing in things that aren’t meant to be believed in. I’m tired of fighting for dreams that seem too far-fetched.

I’m done cribbing and feeling bad.

And I’d really like to be done crying.

You win.

Seriously.

Please.

Just let me be.

And here I thought it was going to be a chirpy and breezy Monday.