I don’t know. 

Its 2.37 am. I’ve just drank coffee with a slice of bread with peanut butter. I’m listening to songs I don’t know. To songs I knew. And they remind me where I was. Twelve years ago. They give me a glimpse of where I’m going. Seven years from now. 

I don’t know. That’s the place I am right now. Where I know nothing. Not where I am. What I want. What is good for me. All I know at this point in life, is that I don’t know. 

I’m writing this one for me. When I’ll know. Ten years from now. Two decades from now. When I’ll have taken all those steps that I can’t see from down here. When maybe I’ll have figured it out. When i’ll have made a choice on marriage. When I’ll be repeating that favorite line of mine; God is faithful. 

And I’m writing to tell me, that when I didn’t know, I was happy. I was alone. I was lost. I broke my teeth. I dyed my hair. I made mats. I facilitated plug-in. I disobeyed my parents. I waited for him to call. I wondered whether she ever thinks of me. I got inspired from a comedy to talk to my God. I missed lying on the grass facing up. I wanted to so badly get a temporary tattoo of that one image that you won’t miss in any single campus book of mine. I considered going for a church mission. 

I just don’t know. Every day brings its own attitudes, feelings and moments. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. And I don’t care. I don’t miss being a child. Or any day that’s not today. 

All I know is that I’m happy. I’m at home inside my heart. 

Its 2.49 am. 

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