Smoke...
The stream of smoke drifted from the lit cigarette in an almost perfect line before breaking off into a random irregularity of diffusion. The boy took another puff of the bitter sweet toxic and began to wonder how long a person could pursue a dream before losing his focus. Perhaps it might not even outlast a cigarette’s short-lived existence.
And in exactly the same fashion as a cigarette spreads its fumes, he started wondering if there was anything wrong with divergence from a perspective dream if it meant a greater basket of choices for happiness. He had got a dream, but he had yet to have acquired the drive to make it a reality. Not just yet…
He had been sitting on the fence for too long, now it had just gotten narrower and almost uncomfortable. A part of him was the optimist. He believed in a romanticized fairytale love story where the ugly peasant living in abject poverty would one day come to marry the king’s daughter. He would still find purity and truth in love despite his humble and unbalanced past.
Yet his past was perhaps the greatest obstacle standing in his way of attaining the hands of any girl, princess or otherwise. Life has not defeated him in any sense, but it just proved with every experience that fairytales belong to fragments of imagination. As he snubbed out the cigarette, the boy paused to recollect his thoughts…This part of him, was the pessimist.
No doubt there is a sweet future awaiting him if he only started trying. He should turn his back on the bitter past and begin a life where only the brightest stars shine in the skies above and only the greenest meadows lie in the valleys below. He should start pushing all his negative experiences into the repressive part of his mind and rediscover the brilliance and picturesque greenery that the future holds in store for him.
But alas! He was still sitting on the ledge and disregarding the discomfort. Because the unfamiliar future was something he had to carve out all over again, while the past; albeit bitter, was already there for him. An Optimist? Or a Pessimist? He still could not make up his mind. He lit another cigarette, and the influx of mind altering chemicals prolonged his agony.
Stuck in the middle was the appropriate phrase. It was the same with everything else. Clownish jokes versus philosophical utterances. Devilish character versus inner-most innocence. Lavish lifestyle versus simplicity. Confidence versus insecurities. Everything versus Nothing. Charismatic debater of eloquence versus scheming manipulator…
Either way, how could he not understand the impact of words? He could convince people on the most hard-pressed issues with a blend of words and wit. But he lacked the conviction to convince himself on even the most simple issues for the sole reason that he had not even decided between which of life’s most simple binary opposites to choose. He secretly wished that the whole world was mute…perhaps then only actions could speak what the mind really wished to say.
The boy flicked away the ash and took a long drag before tossing the cigarette butt carelessly into the grass. He finally came to a decision that he would remain where he was. (Paradoxical as it may sound) Life is not over until the very end, so why coerce himself into taking sides so soon? And perhaps, sitting on the fence was not such a bad idea considering that from his vantage point, he had a more complete vision of the bigger picture.
After all, he was an Optimist.
And in exactly the same fashion as a cigarette spreads its fumes, he started wondering if there was anything wrong with divergence from a perspective dream if it meant a greater basket of choices for happiness. He had got a dream, but he had yet to have acquired the drive to make it a reality. Not just yet…
He had been sitting on the fence for too long, now it had just gotten narrower and almost uncomfortable. A part of him was the optimist. He believed in a romanticized fairytale love story where the ugly peasant living in abject poverty would one day come to marry the king’s daughter. He would still find purity and truth in love despite his humble and unbalanced past.
Yet his past was perhaps the greatest obstacle standing in his way of attaining the hands of any girl, princess or otherwise. Life has not defeated him in any sense, but it just proved with every experience that fairytales belong to fragments of imagination. As he snubbed out the cigarette, the boy paused to recollect his thoughts…This part of him, was the pessimist.
No doubt there is a sweet future awaiting him if he only started trying. He should turn his back on the bitter past and begin a life where only the brightest stars shine in the skies above and only the greenest meadows lie in the valleys below. He should start pushing all his negative experiences into the repressive part of his mind and rediscover the brilliance and picturesque greenery that the future holds in store for him.
But alas! He was still sitting on the ledge and disregarding the discomfort. Because the unfamiliar future was something he had to carve out all over again, while the past; albeit bitter, was already there for him. An Optimist? Or a Pessimist? He still could not make up his mind. He lit another cigarette, and the influx of mind altering chemicals prolonged his agony.
Stuck in the middle was the appropriate phrase. It was the same with everything else. Clownish jokes versus philosophical utterances. Devilish character versus inner-most innocence. Lavish lifestyle versus simplicity. Confidence versus insecurities. Everything versus Nothing. Charismatic debater of eloquence versus scheming manipulator…
Either way, how could he not understand the impact of words? He could convince people on the most hard-pressed issues with a blend of words and wit. But he lacked the conviction to convince himself on even the most simple issues for the sole reason that he had not even decided between which of life’s most simple binary opposites to choose. He secretly wished that the whole world was mute…perhaps then only actions could speak what the mind really wished to say.
The boy flicked away the ash and took a long drag before tossing the cigarette butt carelessly into the grass. He finally came to a decision that he would remain where he was. (Paradoxical as it may sound) Life is not over until the very end, so why coerce himself into taking sides so soon? And perhaps, sitting on the fence was not such a bad idea considering that from his vantage point, he had a more complete vision of the bigger picture.
After all, he was an Optimist.
posted by sUmmEr heAt at 9:15 AM
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