The point of it all

The feeling has strengthened. I’m a man now. I read a story ‘Hema and Kaushik’ by Jhumpa Lahiri and I think it might be the best piece of writing that I’ve ever read, along with The Catcher in the Rye. That’s when I realized that it doesn’t matter what the world thinks of it. To me, what matters is that I like it. I have an identity now. I can decide what I like and what I don’t like, irrespective of whether it's supposed to be liked or not. And I liked this story for a reason which may not be universal. It can be a personal reason, and that makes it all the more better. It feels like it has been written for me. It does not matter if the story is not in the list of best stories of the decade. I loved it and it changed my world in a way.

Why even be

Afraid to think of you
I lay in darkness
Surrounded by mystery,
Surrounded by fear.
Surrounded by something,
So unclear.

That rattling sound
Those lashing waves
Fighting hard
To keep my sane
No more violence, no more pain
No more heart, only brain.

The enigma of life
The things I see
Make me question
Why even be?
Why even be, when all I see
Is hollowness and opacity
Why even be, when all I see
Is reality, so phony