This Angst must End

I'm sorry. Do I whine too much? Here's something positive.

At the brink of maybe losing my job (ignore me, it's probably my persecution complex), I feel wonderfully good about a few things (okay, I'm lying, but I'm also trying).

I want to travel once more. Give up worrying about money, recognition and all that bullshit, and do what I really love. Travel. Take pictures. Write. Draw. Re-learn my guitar.

Well, it's stupid and everything, now that I am in Bombay, with job, with possible prospects, a nice house - but maybe there are no possible prospects. Maybe there isn't that perfect job. Everywhere you go, you're bound to find fake people, bound to find a group you just can't fit into, bound to find people who are more talented, more precious. Everything you cannot cope with, is your problem alone. Your personality deficit.

Like now. I'm in a room full of perfectly wonderful people. Interesting, talented, friendly, well travelled - and yet. Here I am. Nose buried in my laptop, typing contrived bull. Before this, I was reading an e-comic. Sigh, there's no room for temperamental artists, and I am, unfortunately no artist either. My artistic inclinations, if any, are pedestrian. I'm not original, not hardworking and not particularly sharp. I say I'm a wallflower. That's because I let myself be one. Oh wait. Whine territory. I will stop right here.

So tell me, what if you left something important, for what you feel is a better life, a better way, and find yourself winding up in a terrible terrible place? What if all the chances you took were stupid and frivolous and not worth it? What if you were just being complacent and arrogant? What if you spend loads and loads of money only to find you've not only ruined yourself but also others? When you take a chance, do you ever, entirely take it alone?

I could leave it all. I could quit. I could sink into fleeting pleasures and temporary loves.

But for what?

Oh, do not ask, "What is it"?
Let us go and make our visit.