Growing up, being stone

I don’t cry. I control myself. I accept life as it comes. I do this and I do that. I am matured. Uttering all this means nothing but I am fooling myself.

Days, weeks, and months passed. Years will, too. Now I am more focused, they say, and I believe. Nowadays, I think more about my career. If I will work hard in office, and score good marks in university; I will get better opportunities. If I will get better opportunities, I will get better money. Better money means better life. Better life gives better life partner. And chain goes on. Nowadays, I think about this chain quite seriously. So, now I am a matured guy for them; and I believe.

Nowadays, I don’t get words easily. I have to search them for long. I have to write twice and thrice, still delete, and rewrite. Because I want to be technically correct. There must not be any mistake of grammar, diction or vocabulary in my text. Yes, now I call it ‘text’ or ‘content’. Because I don’t write my heart; I write my mind. But, they like my writing now. They feel it’s better than what I used to write earlier. Because it’s more correct, to the point, and matured, they say. I believe.

And nowadays, I receive text messages as forwards and many times delete them without reading. If sometimes, I forward them to some contacts, I don’t wait for any reply to come. I don’t feel bad at all if nobody replies. I take it very easy these days if someone reaches late, or even cancels appointment. Even I don’t bother much to cancel appointments giving reason that I was busy with some other work. I don’t remember I have ridden right from west point to east point of the city just to return a book or a paper to somebody in last so many days. I just don’t do such foolish things now. After all, I am matured, that’s what I believe.

I don’t write poems. They just don’t come to me now. No Ghazal brings tears to my eyes now. When I listen to them, I recall next verses aptly, and feel proud that I remember the great words of great poets. Sometimes, I sing along, making sure that nobody is listening, because if someone points out my mistake; I may lose my impression. Now, I read books helpful for my writing -topic or for my study purpose. I find reading a comics or fairy tale books utter nonsense. How can I spend my valuable time in roaming around the city for no reason, or say, to enjoy the evening breeze? How foolish it is for me now to reach somewhere say an hour earlier and wait for someone in scorching heat just to ensure that that person should not have to wait.

This is what being matured is. Spontaneous reactions start appearing foolish. Crying for something means a sign of weakness. Investment without outcome becomes useless. And moments once used to make your heart heavy become matter of casual discussions.