The sky turns dark again...

In the cold november rain.

The burden of the thinker...

This is an extract from a mail i wrote more than one year ago.

Cogito Ergo Sum: who you are is defined not by where you were born, what you eat or what you do for a living. Who you are is defined by how you think. For some, it is an awareness of an existence. For some, it is the realisation of larger pattern of being. For some, it is just the wait between one basketball game and the next. The quintessential spark of life exists only in the philosophical thinker. It is the thinker who must bear on his shoulders the weight of one billion people who cannot, dare not or will not think. It is on the thinker that rests the hope of humanity for a better itself. But most importantly it is the burden of the thinker to realise that he is the person who is by far the most sinned against. The thinker is not given the right to lessen his burden; and the burden he carries is a great one. The burden of a assembling together a hundred milllion thoughts streaming through his head, each one screaming to be heard or voiced. The burden of knowing that his own existence while grotesque or tragic, probably saves lives. And most importantly the burden of knowing that you can put this baggage down and live the life of a nitwit. While I'm willing to concede that THIS is not entirely fair. That If there is one person who deserves to rise happy every single morning, it is this thinker, and unfortunately we the thinkers are doomed to a life of knowing that anything other than the best is a compromise.

I've made compromises. I know. I've tried to drop this whole baggage so that I could live like a normal person with normal feelings and emotions. I tried to be a person I wasnt. Thank you very much.
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THAT was the mail. One year down, I can happily say that life is just fine. I am no longer trying to be the person I'm not. Good for me.