There was very little left of what he could do.
It was past 2 in the morning and the obnoxious little creature inside his head was thumping his temples with an impossible-to-figure-out rhythm. He knew he had reached the end of the road – a road that had begun with his own ambitious heartache. He hadn’t been concentrating on the book he was holding, and flipped back a couple of pages…
The toil that he had just been through did not leave him in a state to predict the outcome. The timeless tragedies of hundreds before him were not completely unknown to him - the hell-raiser of this brave new world had never made it a secret. The orthodoxy of the past and the yearning of the oh-so mighty future teamed up with the blistering desire to face such challenge had precipitated in his decision to “give it a shot” – or, that’s what he said to the world; but inside, he knew that this was something that he wanted to do for himself, and himself only.
Yes, he did stick to it till the end. Did he regret it? No. Was there anything he lost? Well, the list is endless.
But he didn’t want to be reminded of the tough pragmatism that had now been seeded inside his very core, but he secretly longed to jump back a few months and continue the journey midway again, just live through the same mistakes that had left him in such inadmissible despair – he wouldn’t change a single hyphen.
He knew nothing would change now, and he liked it this way. He knew there was nothing to pull him out of it, but he didn’t want any such thing. All he wanted was a moment of self-appraisal.
And all he could do now, was to wait…
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