pondering over how life has been over the years and the world around me, i wonder if i was living in paradise. ever since my childhood i thought that the world is a beautiful place to live in. i thought that there are a few bad things in the world like poverty, hunger, terrorism and when i grow up, i ll try my best to tackle these problems and free this world from these demons. but as i grow up, i find that every moment u meet a new trouble, everyday u tackle a new problem and every lifetime is a story of struggle. some people around me are facing weird problems. we are living such a complicated life. we are rude, heartless and are no more sensitive to people around us. why do i care about a thing that doesn’t bother me? but then, do we actually think about the things that bother us? no, certainly not.
i wonder if paradise really exists. evrytime i stop at a traffic signal, a child begs me for money. and i tell myself, no, this is my paradise. everytime i pass by an elder by the street, with a sick body and face full of the pain of being rejected, i feel shocked and ashamed. and yet i console myself, this is my paradise. everytime i see an old friend, i wonder if our relations could improve and we may meet often, bringing bak the memory of the sweet old days we had spent together. but, then i feel helpless and again console myself, this is my paradise. everytime i shed tears on my pillow while m alone in the night, missing the presence of a person who is no more with me, i feel shattered. and yet console myself, this is my paradise.
everyday is a new beginning towards an old end. and yet i say, this is my paradise. my grey paradise, full of smoke of the days gone by and the misty future that smiles over me. all i ask myself before closing my eyes in the night is this is another day in paradise…. but is it??