Who do we think we are?

I heard a story once of a great sage who lived a great life and in the end,  walked into the ocean,  denying Death the horror it was due. Wind in my face, waves doubling up with every crest and the sun shy behind the gathering thunder clouds, I stare arrogantly at the sea. Angry at the inordinate disdain, Poseidon froths at my feet and mocks my child like hubris A crying shame! I fancy a plunge albeit afraid to dilute my vanity. The waves regurgitate and froth some more. My pride breaks,  I surrender myself to the Mephistophelian demigod.
” My life is like a lemon. Once you squeeze the juice, all that is left is a bitter aftertaste” My friend remarks.  I can’t help a smile. She tells me I should go ahead and write until I lose the will to lust after my dreams. There is melancholy in her voice, may be even a tinge of disappointment with life. She says she loves music. Quietly, she reminisces.  I stare at the jubilant waves and wonder why must we be so miserable.  What binds us?  What holds back our joy?  Is it not enough that we have given our childhood to the idea of growing up? Must we also sacrifice our youth for some loose change and piling mortgages. I hear a whistle in the distance.  The sea is turbulent. I turn around to find my friend running towards the sea.  She stops, turns around and beckons me to follow her. For this moment, we refuse to be miserable. For this moment, we will live.

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