Only in the state of solitary have I begun to wonder, of how solemn life has turned out to be. Every step that I take, every move that I commit, would all bring about consequences. And I'm growing scared by the second. Things aren't as clear as they used to be, no, not like before. Maybe once they had all seem so clear, the time when I was able to distinguish the horizon so certainly. It might have been a delusion encouraged by a young mind, but at least it was filled with passion. Now that I've grown older, and now that everything seems to be at stake, that flame of enthusiasm has grown much, much dimmer.
It seems like everyone's counting on me, to always do the right thing. I'm suffocating in between these constraints, rarely being able to make mistakes of my own. I take pride in doing good, but at the same time a part of me has always wondered, the possibility of learning something more valuable with each wrong that I've skipped. Sometimes people praise me for what I'm not, and out of fear I tend to lead them to that idea of the ideal Irfan that they've preordained. Have I made a mistake? Have I missed out on a lot? Did my sacrifices bring some good, to others at least? I wonder...
