By Dr Deth
It’s the final day before I turn 30.
Time flies, but anyone with a reasonably active Facebook news feed knows that.
Knocking on the door of the geriatric club of 30 and above, you surely feel bizarre.
You aren’t really aware of the fleeting nature of your existence when you’re a teenager or even straight out of your teens.
You are pimple faced with unrealistic dreams in your faux leather wallet. Soon enough, these dreams morph into farfetched aspirations. The socially aware software in your conscience constantly pokes you to dwell into thoughts of settling in.
The dreaded term that has annihilated many a carefree spirit and urges you to gather the muck and flaunt that stagnant smile.
It tells you, ‘Be practical, fortify your bank balance till you’re in your 40s and bear the fruits of your labour. Make sure your mutual fund has an identical synopsis as your bland life’.
I’ve strongly believed that you can’t wait till that fabled moment to decide you want to have fun.
You got to live each day, and it doesn’t mean partying on borrowed money for a decade.
You have to cry at every heartbreak, laugh at every joke, manufacture such jokes, and realise it’s all a joke.
Misfortunes will hit you and the extent of the damage will have interindividual variations. It’s not a competition, it’s just painful repetition.
Access that cheat code. Find that spark and harvest it. Identify that reason and apply it.
Contribute – Not just to the total pizza bill on Saturdays. Save the distressed. Educate the dumb. Gather wisdom every step of the way. Trust yourself before being cluelessly led as sheep. Make sure you make the best of your resources. Some of us don’t always have the best of it at our disposal.
Shrug away first world problems and the ulcers they confer on your gastrointestinal tract.
The Answer is still unknown. And I am quite sure it’ll always be this way.
I am not out there to find the meaning of my existence.
I am here to exist and burn calories. To hide the pain with social smiles and to work till I truly am sick of it. And I predict that there’ll come a day when whatever miniscule sum my savings amount to, they won’t restrain me from an early retirement.
Maybe, that’ll be my version of