A Bitch called Life
Today is very special. Today, the whole day I avoided thinking about her and in the evening I gave vent to my non-existent emotions and bitched to my heart's content. In the end, I feel listless and empty. It is as if the hatred for her has left me paralysed, I can feel nothing. The nothingness is soothing. I can understand it. But, slowly, a metamorphosis is happening. I do not like it quite. I think I need to stop it from taking over me. Me, the self, I know since 1977, the self which defines me, my status in society, the self that people relate to, and often say,'this is so you.' But, many a times, I feel, is this the real me? The person who swears at old men driving slowly in the middle of the road, who sneers at lovey-dovey couples, rolls her eyes at many things, is this me? Oh god! If this was the real me, who is the person I keep thinking I am. I must be losing it, has it always been like this or is it just now, because of this woman, in my life? Have I given