A Bowl of Elusive

Children always have a lot to say. So did I. And it is because they feel like whatever is new and exciting for them is also new and exciting for everyone else. I feel like adulthood sets in for a person the moment he realizes that most things he wants to say have already been said, most ideas already discovered and most conversations already had. My uncle used to describe this moment as the death of the child within oneself - when you stop enjoying cartoons and an irreversible cynicism sets in. For me, the cynicism and the realization that I have nothing new to contribute set in pretty early on. When I moved to college, I had had years of knowing that the more I talked, the less seriously people took me - so I became quieter. The quieter I became, the more cynical I got. And very soon, I was known as a jerk by almost everyone who wasn't close enough to me to realize who I really was. Before that, I remember always having stories in my mind, and even poems. I often wrote them and pe...

The pursuit of happiness has always been a tricky one. I am no one special. I am an average guy born to average difficulties like any other person. But I don't stay happy. Now I am not sure whether other people do but I'd like to think so. Otherwise, what's the point of living?  I do experience bouts of happiness every now and then but it is usually followed by patches of melancholy. I don't understand it. Although my life had a rocky start, things kept getting better. It was more or less a smooth ride since my eleventh year, but joy always eluded me. Other people seemed to notice it too. I put up a happy face all through childhood and even became the class clown, but I could never manage to make or keep many friends. I had a lot of admirers though, and for quite some time, the attention I got from them kept me going. But attention is no substitute for self-esteem. My self-worth or rather the lack of it kept on eating me from inside. It affected everything, ...