one life year less...

Fifty minutes from now, I would be older by one year. As if with the passage of that last second, time would jump forward by a year, and stay stuck there for a whole year. End results are simple though, one more year passed by making a spectator out of you. If anything was achieved it was how to endure pain and enjoy it too. But then the last 23 were like that only, barring a few disillusioned moments of success, blood bonds and love.

I have no wrinkle I did not have yesterday, no knee aches I did not feel an hour ago, no skies I did not see a moment back. Yet come midnight, my 'don't haves' would make me feel much worse than I felt in the morning. A birthday is like an annual class report. You don't get to pass or fail though. You always move on, the bag of nightmares heavier every year.

As of now, I am still dark-haired, joint-eyebrow-ed, fat, single and geeky. Forty minutes later I would be the same, except I would be more depressed than I have ever been in the last 23 years.