The city looks strange to me…
Every time I come back home from anywhere else. It tells me that I’m not good enough to stay here, not good enough to survive here. This is a land of opportunity and is meant for the champions who want to run and keep on running… And so on! It tells me to go back to where I belong, as it’s not my restful abode. It’s meant for people who want to live in a frame with a lot of aspirations and ambitions; there is no place for a misfit like me who wants to run to where my soul is.
To explore “who I am” first and then probably “who I want to be”!
The city looks strange to me.
because I wonder sometimes, how did I manage to live here and shape up my dreams, which I had believed to be mine, spending so many years convincing myself that they were mine? But they weren’t, and they aren’t!
The city looks absolutely strange to me…
when it tells me that my heart lies somewhere else, and I can’t be part of this crowd. It tells me the truth that I feel bad coming back to it every single time I try to come back with my whole heart! But it denies me the way I really am. I call it the “depression of coming back!”
The city looks strange to me…
when I feel happy to leave everything behind and just proceed to where my heart takes me. It feels good to wave at it and say , “later babe, it’s time to say bye-bye!”
It will probably look familiar to me when it tell me that it’s okay to live life… The way you like and it’s okay that people don’t understand a bit of it.
Love you, zindagi! Love the way you are!
Shweta