Turning 25

I have seen deaths, my own people dying in front of my own eyes. I have clung on to their dead flesh to redeem the memories which refused to whiz past my mind. All that remained was the smell. The smell, that now I have associated with the ones on whom I thrived. It still lingers around to restore their faith on my love. No, I am no storyteller; I am not here to write down yet another paranormal experience.

By the time I turned 19, most of my family members and my father who was my survival strategy had left their earthly abode to find peace elsewhere. The world seemed endless and I an invisible soul. I saw how money could toss our lives in a hot frying pan; my father was the only earning member of my family. I spent my days gazing at the stars at night and figuring out those very stars during the day. A ubiquitous excruciating pain pervaded through all the walls of my beloved house. An “anti” social who I always was, dug a deeper pit and sat there comfortably. Witnessing 7 deaths in a row, obviously had to have an impact. I saw a bitter sweet family fall apart, now we are distant relatives.

The skies above when I saw up and darkness when I looked down, that’s what I could see from my new found pit. But one fine day I thought of peeping outside, above the brim of the pit. My eyes went blind with the flash of a fabulous light. An immediate signal was received by my brain, life was calling me. Life never promised me to purge me of my sorrows nor did it tempt me of better days. It just asked me to do a simple thing, to open my eyes to the world outside. Before turning 25, I had lived as a loner as well as learnt to LIVE alone. Now at 25, I have decided to explore the beguiling world outside, I have pronounced to appreciate life. After all, it’s all about looking above that pit.

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