142236245

He knew what he wanted.

A weird feeling passed through his head, and he sat still. Staring at the mirror, he wondered; what was making him so uncomfortable?He started to recollect the day’s incidents, trying to remember the one thing that was making him restless. He didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t had lunch, and it was 8 at night; hunger didn’t seem to get close. He couldn’t read. All he could do was to stare at the mirror.

There often used to be such times when he would suddenly realize the uneasiness he was facing, and would start looking for a reason.Sometimes he would get one, sometimes not. The latter would invariably lead to hours of frustration; the former would be no less. He remembered the common saying ‘Works of fiction often have a real life impact or an implication’. He could almost feel a dementor. Reading about it, or watching it, was fun; Real life? No!

‘Where’s my life headed to?’, he wondered. He would keep thinking of the past, and how his life was. How he spent those days, how others were so much fun, how it was all so fine, how he was never in a situation that lead to questioning himself, how he never felt like what he was feeling now.

Another dreaded feeling passed through his head: He was beginning to lose the sense of humor he had. He couldn’t appreciate the jokes made by others. In fact, it seemed all too silly, and he wished he could spank them.

Suddenly, everything seemed different. He was looked at differently by people. The others seemed to draw a line between them and him. A look or glance towards him seemed to be filled with respect. He began to act differently. He’d realized this; that didn’t do any good either. He had to live this way. He wanted to get back to his own self. He hated this. There was nobody to blame but him. He’d chosen to do this.

It was strange the way life moved on, making new friends, changing priorities, new ambitions and a fresh outlook to life, a newly evolved being. And there was no going back.

He smiled at himself.

He knew what he wanted.