We are not broken.

This morning I woke up to a sullen sky, looking at the clock with my eyes half opened, "I am early. The sky is going to pour anytime". I couldn't help thinking when was the last time I cried.

With my cold fingers I pulled the other curtain and over the foggy window, I can hardly make out the shape of anything. I assumed it is the early birds walking to their classes, they moved in a ball of blur.
As much as I love to sit on my bed and stalk all the people in my campus, this is only my second time doing so, I secretly counted. The first time I indulged myself in this creepy laziness was in a drizzling evening, I had a cup of hot milo in my hands, after I gave up on my sketch book and decided to watch strangers instead, the way they move their hands when they walk, the way they walk when it rains, the way it rains when I have nothing to rush.

Seeing a group of boys in white shirt and black tie reminded me of my first day in this university, April, 5 years ago. I had never seen so many Indians before,and I used to wear uniform everyday now I get to wear whatever I want? Everything was as unnatural as the sex sounds you make in bed.

You enter your twenties with all of these convictions that one day you're gonna achieve great things in your life but lose them all by the time you’re 23. It's not that you don't dream anymore, but question is do you have what it takes to dream? Can you afford the dreams-never-come-true? This is not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it feels good to surprise yourself. Sometimes it doesn't matter to feel all the hurt. I can take it.

I'm young enough to take it.