Diary Entry Of An Amateur Pessimist

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Another year is about to dawn and I don’t know what I am supposed to feel, hopeful? Optimistic?

I don’t think I can get myself to feel hopeful about the future if everybody  is only going to grow old and die. It is rather childish, me wallowing about the inevitable. Growing up means shouldering responsibilities, seeing the world stripped off its glitter and glamour, and plodding on even when others fade and disappear from your life. The necessity of moving on eludes me, the future looms like a frightening storm, I can spot flashes of lightning revealing the purple blackness of the clouds. I sit shivering as I look at the approaching storm, I want to flee, find shelter from the storm, but I realize that there is no escape. I have to brave the storm, let the rain lash me mercilessly. I am not in control, I never was.

New Year

 

She looked at herself in the mirror, her face was pale and drawn. The effects of radiation were beginning to show. She sighed audibly and watched her reflection fog up in the mirror. She had to tell them soon.

“Mom, come on out we are going to start with the fireworks”, yelled Ritu from the front yard.

“I’m coming”, she called out. She splashed her face with water and stepped out of the bathroom.

She could hear her children counting out in the front yard “6…5…4…”

“3…2…1… Happy New Year”, she exclaimed with her children, Ritu and Rohith. She hugged them tightly and watched the fireworks erupt in the night sky; bursts of green, red, and yellow cascaded down and faded into smoke. She had dreaded the new year and all those nasty changes it will bring to her children’s lives. She had to tell them.

”Not now…”, she told herself.