When its one in the morning and you cry for something as silly as not getting your daily fix of chocolates, you know that there is something terribly wrong with you. You wonder when things got so complex that you can’t really pin-point what’s bothering you. When did you get so fucked up? Or better still, how not to be fucked-up? How do you be happy like the people around you, people with their juicy snippets of gossip or their witty (or so they think) attempts at small talk, how do they do it?
The world seems different when you’re in your twenties; you see the world as it is; what’s real and what’s not suddenly dawns on you. Your dreams seem unrealistic; you abandon hope; and stop believing and you are stripped of all romantic notions that kept you going, not so long ago.
The rose-tinted glasses blow up in your face and a shard of it gets into your eye; its acts as an anti-body to all thoughts romantic; all hope; all faith. Remember the Snow Queen? At least the boy had someone who saved him; all he had to do was - feel and cry. That released the glass from the prison of his eye. That’s a fairy tale, in reality, no amount of crying gets that metaphoric glass out; nor does any alcohol or anything stronger if you like.
Maybe, the glass that seems so alien was always a part of us.
