He was an old soul..
Or so he thought.
The desire to live eluded him but so did the wish to end his life.
He was too comfortable in his own skin, all of 36.
He never did too much and never too less, always just enough.. Enough to carry on.
Work, food, clothes, relations, life..
He stood there watching life go past him on the street..
Bustling and bursting in a cacophony of sounds, colors, smells..
A vague smile playing on his lips..
All sorts of creatures crawled around..
But none piqued his interest
For he was an old soul.. He had seen it all.
He had had always seen it all since he was a kid in a broken wooden crib back in the day.
He barely cried then.
he had seen it all and yet he hadn't, as he stood rubbing tobacco in his cracked palms, on the corner of a busy street waiting for his next customer..
The man on the street.. Was it you or was it me?
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2 comments:
Ur blogs suggests u r nt an old soul. U want to scream, fight, change. U want to be crazy, taken. U want to make, feel n relive memories. U want to live life to the fullest.
As u wrote, he seems to b a social outcast, mislabeled, thrives in solitude type of person. He is too comfortable in his own skin as if he has adopted the motto of being happy n not worrying. May b he has accepted the reality that everything fades and passes away, no matter how wonderful or terrible. It doesn’t seem much of a point to him in becoming overly attached to the outcome of situations, whether positive or negative. He's simply enjoying the ride in his own balanced way. He's the old soul I guess.
I wonder what made him so or was he always like tat?
This is literally inspired by rickshaw-wala i saw on the street.. so.. :)
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