the best of times

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
a young male discovers the true meaning of existence and such.

Submitted: March 15, 2017

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Submitted: March 15, 2017



The Best Of Times

The beeper goes off at 7 in the morning.I Wake up to shit; literally and otherwise. Morning wood stresses my thighs as I roll over contemplating the immplications of staying in bed. My mom would scream my head off, dad could take away the bike keys, and most irrelevant of all I could lose a day of school. Still all things considered, one is forced to conclude: this crap is NOT worth it. My ass screams for a release and so I get vertical. Thirty minutes later, it's cruise control on the way to school. Typical chennai morning stuff near school: Parents dropping wards, brats and bitches offloading of vans and transport, the early office goers, lots of buses and heavy-fucking cacophony. We don't know it then, but that morning coffee from mom was a godsend; in between dragging our ass to the first class at scool rather than saying fuck it and bunking in bed, that coffee was stronger magic than what dumbledore read about. It's just going through motions in class, after all, school started a month back,true?? I meaan,who gives a crap what you learn, when what you are gonna do is cram up two months before the boards. My teacher, gave the same advice she always gave: never lose focus....but then you already know that,true? 

Classes screeched to a halt with the beautiful swinging of bells at 5 in the pm. As I walked back to my wheels, I had that nagging sense... at what the prof had preached today. You see being in class 12, meant a lot of big words being thrown in your face.Literally nothing less than philosophy lesson each fuckall day of the calendar. But that didn't piss me off cos that just numbed out after the fifth or sixth day,you fake fierce looks on your face and put the books in front of you...and you dream. Cos the brain is one wandering son of a bitch. Untamed and frigging AWOL at the mere thought of studies. Our prof had told us to never lose sight of where we needed to be; irrespective of the numbers on our grade sheets. It was a great lecture,... exactly like the one you heard if you google searched it,but good nontheless. Now, as I kick started my vehicle, I thought of where I wanted to be: A strong,self empowered male ,working at a company like GE, earning a decent pay,possible relationship..... and other urban fairy tale stuff. The alternate reality was I could end up in mediocre living, like my parents and majority of the country. Another parallel version of me was a central defensive midfielder playing for chelsea while another destination put me on another planet far from the sfe haven of earth.

As I oversaw each of these possibilities, it dawned on me that none of this would be relevant to my actual experience. Setting aside optimism and sheer happenstance, what would happen in the future would just be a cocktail of all these visions. But, what I would be capable of acheiving, would be the one set in stone in my heart,...the other visions would eventually become periods of life to cherish. There would be football with my friends that I can recall...but I would have to be content at watching the rest on tv. Mediocre living eventualy catches up as life sets into routine... and so do all our bright,sunny,made-of-fairy-dust future visions of ourselves. This realisation doesn't necessarily make me buddha uner a bodhi tree... but I smirked at the revelations all those visions had just bought me... when a bike flashed right past me. As I veered right, I grazed past the front fender of a lorry,.. knicking by back carrier in the process. The ittle knick put my bie into a tail spin.... and next thing I know, I was surrounded by people,hopefully,on the side of the road. 

It took me four days at the hospital to recover from the scrapes and the shock. Literal-fucking miracle,true? As I recalled the episode a countless times to those who cared to ask, my lips still sparked when I explained what happened just before the accident. In it's own way, I beleived nature, whoever or whatever had just told me to keep my focus. I took it as a sign that beyond our individual purpose in life, the moral compass inside us provided us the concentration and perseverance to keep that focus... and if it didn't work out, it gave us an oppotunity to watch the world around us unfurl. And that was what mattered, to realise that the second hand was ticking, hearts never skipped a beat and that the individua was just,alive.

It's been a week since then. I still shut my beeper up in disgust. Still can comprehend the need to drag myself into a classroom. But, I realise a vision take shape for me when I do endure and do all these things. A destination to work for, to call upon as my own. The fear of failing to do so, is irrelevant. I can always just look down to my watch and smile as the second hand swings by.  

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