It seems as if there is not going to be any change after all. The great wait for change, dangling on a flimsy ray of hope. It is strange how even now I expect some change to happen everyday. I know there is a kind to reassuring stability in daily routine. The same motions, the same people, the same work. But still this reassurance that life is going on is not enough for me. I keep on wishing with the fervency of a little kid for some change to happen. But change seems to have decided to just let me be.
I want a change to happen in my life. To make it more worthwhile. I feel that I am cheating life. Maybe I will not be able to handle it. But a different sun to shine on my day, different rain drops falling on my face, a different kind of anticipation, something to look forward to. Someone to share the joy of that expected change with me. Now that is something else. Maybe just all this wishing and expecting makes me immature. But I want it. I want to rise everyday and and not just run my routine in my mind but to anticipate and look forward to the day. Just waiting for some kind of a miracle to happen, the turmoil that goes through my mind, is very painful. People see the smile and no one cares to look behind the closed doors. Better leave it all there, to rot in a void of emptiness.
Then I wonder sometimes, who cares? Nobody. Every time we find a reason to smile and laugh, just think how it would feel if there was no one else to see you happy. The hope of changing this life drives me on, towards another day of staid routine. The light at the end of the tunnel keeps me going. That the tunnel itself might never end, this thought gnaws continuously at my mind. But I go on...
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