I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still ...
Happy the man,and happy he alone, He,who can call today his own; He who,secure within,can say, Tomorrow do thy worst,for I have lived today.
Comments
Who the bloody hell is this ZOYA?
-Zoya
"Has anyone else noticed that someone looks a lot like someone from the tv series Friend?"
P.S. feel free to delete my comments if found offensive or derogatory
And I need to grow up.
Sameera, that was a good joke!