Did the title remind you of Metallica? That was like my anthem while growing up, so obviously a lot of my work will be influenced by them! Anyways, this is the second bit of the story (which I am still stuck with). The words come so suddenly that sometimes I am not prepared to jot them down; and then of course a lot gets lost in transition. It’s been a few days since I posted the first part, so in case you want to catch up, you can read it here)
Whoever said that living alone was “da bomb” was surely speaking under a great deal of…influence. There’s nothing exhilarating about washing and cleaning up after yourself. Earning money is dope, till that becomes your sole means of survival. Then, it’s just a step away from slavery. I remember the sweet urgings of mom as she tried to coax me to take a bite. Now, it was just me with water boiling on a pan (induction stove of course, I didn’t pass the landlord’s reliability test) and packets of instant salvation. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t spoiled for choice – there were at least three varieties of noodles, two soups and a few half-filled boxes of sugar laden cereals. I wasn’t living it up; but I was living on my own terms.
I won’t get into the details of my job. It was just as unsatisfying and underpaying as everyone else’s. Though to be honest maybe I wasn’t as deserving as the ten candidates, I literally beat up to land this job, were. My boss wasn’t very impressed with my skill at making time pass swiftly but he was stuck with me. Let’s just leave that part out. I don’t want to be giving anyone reading this any wrong ideas (in case they are hiring). The bottom line is that I could account for about eight hours of my life every day and at the end of the month I had a thick fat wallet to exploit. I wasn’t overly ambitious; there were enough notches in my belt already, I didn’t crave any more.
I desperately looked forward to the weekends when all I had to concern myself with was… absolutely nothing. I don’t mention any friends because I never went about making any. Some people treat it as a hobby like stamp collection – “collect as many samples of homo sapiens as possible before the clock stops ticking”. Yes, that’s exactly like some people I know; but that’s not me. I sailed through my growing up years unencumbered with other’s expectations, experiences or gossips. If any wrong decisions had to be made, I wanted to take full credits. No peer pressure for me; I was already bogged down with enough questions about my own existence… So yes, the weekends were the only days I had when I didn’t have to share myself with anyone else.
(To be contd)