So, here I am , caught between crying babies in the Shatabdi , only to be compelled to further elaborate what I started last night.
After that entrenched feeling of being perpetually ignored, I zeroed upon returning back to my nest. Just to explain the metaphorization , the nest refers to my room back home, for it is commonly conjectured that I am seen outside it , only in the rarest of circumstances. In fact it's like our family joke ( the rule of the four Fs ) that only flood , fire , fury and food can force me outside my room.
But I guess I am always surrounded by ironies . As I checked my inbox once again , more with the intention of clearing off unwanted messages,than to find what I had been expecting, I finally got a reply. This is where it became a tad ironic. It's like the little games that life plays. While it may seem from an external perception to be something very regular, it is in fact something resembling to a volatile ECG graph of hope and despair , where hope is like a subconscious throttle to one's system and despair is like a sinking Titanic, immaculately dull and depressing.
No comments:
Post a Comment