And I stood there in front of thousands of people who had deprioritized living for my performance. I had long hoped I could accomplish it and there it was – fame as immortal as lies itself has chosen me out of us all who no doubt were no less than any other. There were no faces, no recognizable human silhouette to relate with, just endless roar of hard work and dedication which streamed through my ears down my heart to shoot gushes of boiling blood to my brain. I didn’t know where my hands were, whether my feet still balanced. Hell, if I were in boiling water or frozen ice of Himalayas, I wouldn’t have known. I never got high on any kind of substance but I am sure if one could push himself to the limits of oblivion on these, it would have been more or less similar. I think I wanted to cry but dry eyelids didn’t help.
As I took a bow and thanked my audience, I felt death inside me, searching, turning things upside down, frustrated and happy at the same time. I couldn’t speak, not as much because of choking sensation in my throat as of the dead will to express. I walked the long path taking the congratulations of people as the flowers they throw on dead. Their happiness and amazement appeared more due to the fact of my misery than to my accomplishment.
It like a childhood story, they tell you that the king defeated the enemy, the villagers killed the wolf, Cinderella found her prince but they never tell you how they feel when they finally achieve the desired. Truth is the funniest joke of all. It gives you the punch line where you least expect and you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, laugh at the comedy of tragedy, the tragedy of comedy.
I checked my cell she had messaged “You are an amazing dancer, bows down to you”. I switched off my cell and left the place. Tonight was going to be longer than any of the nights I had spent working to achieve this.
What sense do these desires make.So much money,time potential a damn generation wasting their life on something which doesn’t have a purpose at all. Hours multiplied my number of people = days of human resource wasted on one guy’s desperation to fame, who is not even happy at the end of this. If there is a God, he is crying at the utter failure named humans and its not gonna be long before those tears turn into anger.