It seems that I have this running battle with happiness. I try hard to maintain an amicable relationship with her but happiness doesn’t like me much. Perhaps she feels claustrophobic as me. Whoever tries to hold on to me will never obtain me. So too with happiness. Leave it alone, perhaps it may come but in my life it is a sin to be happy longer than 24 hours.
I had a great weekend. Really did. Great game of cricket, then made some crappy pulao and got drunk on some wine. I slept happy. Mistake it was. I woke up. Joby took her own sweet time to get up. Why should that bother me? You see, I am weird. I have this strange way of thinking that no one will ever bother to understand. The thoughts that swirl in my head whispered to me that it is “she who should have been keener than I to ensure that I don’t reach late.” Yeah, these voices are my vices. Another chanceless remark – aren’t they piling up? – towards the end of a day where I felt absolutely useless at work – and I had this familiar gnawing feeling that I have to do everything all over again. A holiday is not just a pleasure but a pain-staking path towards more stress.
Damn bus. I walk. Reach. My dad says Sushila is very depressed – even talked about killing herself and I wonder to myself again – this happiness, truly she hates me. Well, then I should not make happiness the focus of my life anymore. Just pass through each day waiting eternally for its inevitable tribulations and then the day when smack you can smash happiness in the face and say you care no more for you are no more.