It was more than a year since she wrote those lines and spend time introspecting her work and choices she was making in her life. Everything seemed so blissful and perfect at that moment though she was burying her hankering to pursue her dreams under easily perforated layers of doing something she never realised was not her cup of tea. The first five months of her endeavour turned out to be a cataclysm. She wanted to run off. She even tried to do so. But the fear of being labelled as a loser and quitter and the look of chagrin on her parent's face haunted her and she came back to give it one more shot.
Every morning she woke up with the hope that her day would go as bright as the sunshine. Though the tiny voice inside her head told her she was gonna be broken again. And yes! The day would turn out to be like a clouded sky waiting her to shower tears of dismal. At the end of the week, she snapped, breaking down and wailing it all out. She wanted it all to end. Rather, she wanted to go back to where it all started and change her course to run! But miracles don't really happen. DO they? Even if they do, it didn't seem one was gonna happen in her life. Somehow thinking about what actually made her happy sounded the most sinful and selfish thing she could do in her life and to the people she loved and cared about.
The post breakdown day, she spent taking her mind off her present situation and be lost in the realm of sitcom. She started feeling a little better. By the end of the day, she realised that it wouldn't be that bad if she just tried one more time to try! Here she was; back at square one.
But was she really satisfied with persisting on doing something she wasn't happy about? Doesn't dignity lie in one's own satisfaction and personal happiness than trying to content masses who wouldn't even know whether you ate something; leave aside being aware of the day's menu?
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