Ice cream cone

I love ice cream. And that is a redundant expression. I mean, who doesn't like ice cream? Unless someone's lactose intolerant, and develops flatulence after eating ice cream due to pathetic genetics, we all scream for ice cream. With that settled, I shall proceed with my usual pre-exam-day rant. Evidently, I have an exam tomorrow. And fortunately, or unfortunately, most of my ideas come at a time when I should be swimming, rather drowning myself in books. Nevertheless.....

I took a walk after all the "efforts" I'd put into my day for my exam tomorrow, which involved a little reading, a lot of time on the Internet, another hour of sleeping, and wondering about what the hell just happened on the farewell party that was held on the day before. Before I delve into the specifics of the farewell party, which I shall desperately try to avoid, here's what I originally started writing today for.

As I was saying, on my walk in this very sombre weather, clouds and all, devouring an ice cream, I happened to look around, only to see the chaps that have been in my vicinity for the last four years. We came in as boys. Now, we've sprouted beards and mustaches. Goodness! How people change just because of a spike in facial hair density. A big chunk of us have lost the integrity of our spines. That's even philosophically speaking, given the amount of hours some of us have subjected ourselves to on the chair. It's only sad to see how many among us can barely run. Perhaps, they were never gifted with the ability to run. But then, that's fine, I suppose. Not everything is meant for everybody. Or is that so? We shall walk out of our places here looking partly like the men we shall turn out to be in the very near future. Now, let's not talk about men alone, as I wouldn't like to be labeled a sexist.

About women.. Phew, these gorgeous creatures! Okay, to be frank, not all women are gorgeous, as unfair, and rude as that may sound. But the ones who are, GOODNESS!! Molded from some unidentified ethereal matter.. Remember how they walked in? There was absolutely NOTHING remarkable about what they were. Somewhere, a lightning bolt struck, and it became a privilege to get your heart broken by one, if not all of these creations. It feels good to know that the heart hardened itself each time it got broken by these sometimes heartless souls from Venus. But then that's okay too, I guess. It's at least better than sitting insulated in the warmth of your mother's bosoms. The mind learns each time. Or let's hope the stupid thing sitting between our ears does learn from the mistakes we commit. I highly doubt that happening. But that's only personal experience. Hardly matters in the larger scheme of things. 

Sometimes I wonder about why things happen the way they happen, about how they happen, and also about what the hell's happening. As like a handful of people, I have very poor calisthenic awareness (a sense of where your arms and legs are in space).

Is each one of us another Duracell battery, getting prepped up to power some bigger body? Do we exist? Or are our thoughts just the remnants of an entity that existed a really long time ago? What I  do know for sure of all things, is this. This skin that we feel, the face we want to hold, the strength in our feet, that which allows us to float on the ground below, it shall all perish. And now, I shall enter my Fight Club mode....

“This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.”

This is something I am trying to tell myself. But hey, why not think a bit aloud? Maybe the message might just resonate out into the universe and come of some use to another soul too? That's the deal with writing, I feel. “People do it everyday, they talk to themselves… they see themselves as they’d like to be, they don’t have the courage you have, to just run with it.”

So here I stand, another soul, trying to run at the speed of my thoughts. I just realized that all of this, each word that anyone has ever written, is all selfish rant on one form or another... All of it! All in the search of someone who'd have the patience to hear what you have to say. Besides, the sound of every key clicking under your fingers is absolutely intoxicating. I wonder how it would have felt on a typewriter.

Last but not least, there's one ability that I wish upon every living soul....

The ability to let that which does not matter........ truly slide!
Okay, maybe not on every living soul.

All this thinking while chomping on ice cream? Wow! I wonder what would have become had I been on something more potent. The human mind, I tell you!