We are what we post on our social networks. I guess life was meaningless before social networking came along to define us. Just imagine the meaninglessness our forefathers endured in the oblivion of FB. But we are the enlightened ones. Lucky us. We post like crazy. Every moment spent on experiencing anything not worthy of a post is not worthy of the experience in the first place. And since we somehow don't live the enriched lives we envisaged for ourselves, plagiarizing the thoughts and opinions of others is what these networks is all about. Rarely do I come across a post that isn't a repost or a post not flattering oneself. What a severe paucity of a genuine appreciation for life.
I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still