How do you choose? Or is the choice even left to you? The path that you have chalked out, where you have drawn the pitfalls, where the end is necessarily a happy ending.
Last night, I dreamed about a different life. Not better nor fancier, just different. It looked a lot like the life I'd pictured when I was twenty. Five years later, I'm different. I can see that everytime I react to situations. There was a time when I could be nonchalant. Indifferent, even. I would stand like a rock against the teeming mass that went one way. The rock would transmogrify into a centipede and crawl the other way.
Now the need is primal. Savage. A need that transcends to the time the circuits were wired to survive, not think. A time when procreation and desire took over "I don't think I'm ready for commitment. And if there's no commitment, sleeping with him is just so primitive, no?"
It's a new day. One where I don't know if I will sit outside me and watch Aditi throw a sulk and sit gloomily by her window, or if Aditi and I will be one and go over each minute of the past five years. One where I don't know if I will watch the parrots and crows swoop past me or if I will stare at the clay birds hung on the window.
Bah. The weeping and introspection gets to me. I think I should just cut everything and start again. At least I wouldn't feel I was at the edge of a party, waiting for the invitation to join in. I can see those frigging lights and smell the heady perfume, but I can't dance in there, dammit!
Perverse. That's what it is. Someone up there is having a good time yanking my chain. We'll have it out when I get there, my lord. It will be a day of reckoning, in more that one way, I promise.
Never mind me. I'm drunk at 10 in the morning and not a drop of alcohol has passed down my throat.