Small Things

I haven’t blogged for a while now, just waiting around for that one topic worth writing about. I read someone’s note yesterday, so well written about a moment in their childhood. If I was to recollect and narrate about my childhood, it would be so vague, to me and to those who read. I don’t have many memories of my childhood or not many funny interesting stories so to say. Now that I think about it, I have always been the kind to play it safe.  Don’t jump from the wall, in case you get hurt, don’t cheat in exams in case you get caught. All I can say is I was aware of the consequences of my actions. That’s the best excuse I can give for a lame and unexciting life. Talking on life, I pretend (to myself) that I know a lot about it. But the truth is I don’t.  I have begun to feel like, I haven’t  lived a life, I have just read about it, in books, in newspapers, in the lines on my parents faces and the silent tears in my brothers eyes. And that makes me feel like I know life. The