Being Wallflower

Good evening guys, I am back with my thinking cap on. In a nice rainy weather like this, especially if it’s Monday evening and on lock-down, the laziness hits a whole new level. Lying on my bed like a full course meal devoured python 😂.

So as i pour from the bottle of Hennessy on my Riedel Vivant, with the symphony of Adagio in G minor by Albinoni, played on the B&W Nautilus at the background.

Too classy for this post, it doesn’t fit an imaginary prologue out of nowhere, so cutting back to reality

As I pour my masala chai on my coffee mug, munching my parle G, here I am writing the post, so excuse me if I grammatically err somewhere.Today I am making a confession on how it feels to be a wallflower.

Yes I am an evolved wallflower, by choice. I only converse with the ones who match my kind. Frowning gives lesser pain on forehead than fake laughter does on jaws or infidelity does on hearts. I don’t like giving surprises or getting ones anymore. Happiness triggers equal amount of anxiety on me as sadness does. Rather being sad is much easier to manage. Rejections are a major part of my life journey so far. Rejected by friends, colleges, jobs and women. Have seen everything from hospitals to courtrooms, love to hatred, crying in happiness to smiling with pain. All thanks to the morale. We prefer to trip over some greens at home than, fake out partying at pubs. I love my own company more than anyone else. No fake love, fake greetings, fake celebrations. Just real shit, Life.

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