Technology, the typing sounds of keyboards the night before a test is due that only seems to increase your panic that you won't finish it in time, the heartbreaking cracking sound that means that you broke your phone, your connection to the world. The glowing, floating sensation you get when the ringtone sounds that you had assigned specifically for your crush. This is what technology is really about. The feelings, the high-tech futuristic feel of an iPhone's smooth metal backing in your hand, the pride that you feel when your Instagram reaches a hundred followers. Not the popularity contest to have the best gizmos and techie toys. Not the millions of dollars the companies make each year. Not the hours and days and weeks and months that go into each new iPhone or ipod model that comes out. The feelings are what makes it popular, and keeps it popular. They connect you to the world, and anchor you in reality while giving you the sense that in the future, anything will be possible. That's what technology is about.
Just like you don't have to understand how a wave works to ride it, you also don't have to understand heartbreak to get over it. Some days heartbreak will seem like the strongest force in the world. On others, it will seem like something from a distant past. We don't always understand why our hearts are breaking like they do, but sometimes without even noticing, they glue themselves back together. One day you will be completely torn to pieces about the sound of the song you two shared together on the radio. And the next, it will just sound like background music. Putting yourself back together isn't always about things being black and white. Sometimes the picture is completed in the small spaces that the blacks and whites mix, making the different shades of gray and creating a new picture.
This has started from long back. There was not much that could be understood about this guy named Ross. He has been silent and slowly growing melancholic since his childhood days. He was not talking much, mostly getting sad at every other small remark passed his way. There was some pain in him that seemed to rely heavily on the external circumstances and it would be ignited at whatever small change that affected him. What was the reason for this grief? What was the reason for his weeping? Why was he so sensitive? Why did his own land of imagination start getting as a place of hiding? He was more of thinking that he was being watched. This fear of being watched made him leave anything that he wanted to pour himself into. So why was he feeling afraid of being watched? This made him fall prey to mockery and rubuke in school days. So what was the fear he was carrying? And why did it keep instigating the pain deep down in him?
How does he not see me? I'm driving so fast and at him, surely he knows I'm here. He doesn't recognise me. Of course he doesn't. Why would he? I was just a kid the last time he saw me. He just saw pain, blood, suffering. He saw my defenceless brother and he laughed. He had no qualms about telling me he was going to kill my brother. But he didn't. He hurt him but he didn't kill him. I'll kill him. Not my brother, no way. I'll kill him. I'm driving at him. It'd be so simple, just run him over and drive off. Sure, someone will spot my license plate and report me. There'll be some of the car on him and some of him on my car. But who cares? Maybe then he'll know who I am and he'll remember, that scared seven year old girl he intimidated and allowed to watched the pain he set upon her family. I should slow down. Is it worth it? Maybe for a few minutes but it won't make the pain go away. At least he'll be gone away, gone for good, like he should be. Why should he be able to walk around after what he did? He shouldn't and he won't. Not now. Sure I know where he lives, I'm sure I could find out where he works, though he's probably leaching off the state, who would hire him? No, I'll get him. Sooner or later I'll get him and I'll make him look into my eyes and let him know who I am and why I'm doing this. Or maybe he'll know in the afterlife. He'll be looking out at me from hell or purgatory, somewhere hot. And he'll know. Hell always know.
Ever feel weighed down by the prospect of a new dawn, the iridescent glow of a fresh morning trailing all the problems of yesterday and another batch just baked for you. Its a constant struggle to cast off the misgivings and dress to face the budding day but it's a well worth one. cause hidden within the folds of time lie the vital incentive to strike a stride and fabricate a reality that conforms to your every need. Its a struggle much like drafting obscure ideas into prose and slapping into a square box with a timer on it. But when that clock ends and you're done, a sensation of relief is far more addictive than any drug conceived by man or religion. So seek the horizon, live a little, dream abundantly and above all else dress equitably for the unforeseeable oncoming predicaments. Cause if you cant win atleast lets go out in style