I Me Myself

What are you crying about boy?

I looked up and saw myself staring at myself. It was a rare moment that occurs often in my life all the

time occasionally. My Mr Hyde was staring at me with dissecting eyes. He was boring into my deep

recesses. I wanted to run away, scream and hide. But there he was staring at me.

\'Nothing\', was all I could stifle out. I knew he was reading my mind as always. He knew I was thinking

about all the times I had lost. I knew he was laughing at me, laughing at my sordid weak self. Before he

could spit another question in my face, I slowly started narrating the same sad tale that I always had to

tell.

Self, individual, time all felt out of place when I juxtaposed me and what I wanted to be. They say

dreamers are achievers. But for my case I had never been able to realize any of my dreams. I had failed

where I wanted to succeed. I had succumbed where I wanted to rise, I had fallen where I should have

achieved. It wasn\'t that I was dumb or I was not well provided for with opportunities. But yet I had

failed. What was it that had pulled me back? Was it competition, too many expectations with myself,

hope or over confidence which I thought was confidence. Modern man or should I say man- a poor

victim of all these sad predicaments. Who was to blame? He looked at me with a scowl and I knew

obviously his answer was \'you\' or did he mean \'me\'... in both cases I suffered... \'I suffered\'... I blared

out.

I remember how my mother used to tell me whenever I was sad or blue, that look at the evening star. It

is the first one that comes out in th evening. When no other star would dare to show up challenging the

dark, Venus stands tall and opens the road for the little light merchants to light up the dark. I still lift

my head in th evening to take a look at Venus, to draw inspiration, to feed on some hope on...