Fear is checking my bank balance, knowing that it’ll be in the lower three digits, if not two, Fear is checking the date, seeing how many days are remaining in the month, Fear that I will inevitably get that ciggerate when I should not and also inevitably get a cup of tea along with it to wash down that smoke, That it’s not the money, the date, the budgeting, It’s me, I am addicted, I make bad decisions, I live in a place where I don’t want to live, I want a place I can love, Wake up feel the sunrays from the early morning, intrude my room from the already dark curtains dance on my face and skin, make a cup of tea, sit on the balcony and sit with peace, that’s what I want.
I dream of this, then wake up on my matress with my stuff littered around me, wake up in a room with 4 other people, first thought, if I’m lucky, then after brushing and taking a bath, will be do I want to go to my college on rickshaw and spend 80rs of the day on travelling or ride my friend’s scooty, the friend who I hate to be around, if not loathe.
But I remember hope, life feels like navigating through a heavy thick fog, that blinds me and makes my back and legs heavier, in between that fog I see a light, sometimes it shines bright like a fire, and sometimes it’s dim like a candle or a diya, but it shines nonetheless, it’s there, it pushes me on. In the darkest of days, there is that light, that comforts me no matter what. It’s love and hope.
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