The imperfection of thought

The boon and the bane of taking a year off is most of the time your closest friends have been screwed in uni giving you more lessons to learn when you yourself get in the field. The sad thing is that they graduate before you.

And while they are gonna graduate. . . there will come that sentimental phase when they all are recounting the “memories” of their 4 years while more often than not…you are the Joey of the group, smiling and nodding along…thinking why so emotional munchkins?

However, sadness does creep in. Some of my friends are devastated to leave uni with all the uncertainty and questions in their lives. . .it got me thinking. . .and I was trying to study Dynamic Programming when (honestly I still don’t know when this side blossoms out) I just started writing at the edge of the notebook,

Close your eyes and I will sing you a lullaby,
Hush little one it’s alright,
You might feel helpless right now,
But days are close when you spread your wings and fly,

But don’t let tomorrow slip away,
In the wonders of life,
Nothing stays cemented,
Fortitude is not necessarily solitude,
Don’t let a day stay stagnant in your plight,

As these days come to an end,
The comrades that stayed by your side will remain,
Memories you cherish will only grow with time,
All this time as you embark upon another journey in the making,

Perception is a matter of introspection,
What you question is what you become,
A cynic or a saint,
What remains is a soul questioning throughout its time,
Peace remains temporary with memories and thoughts,
Crashing as waves in the sea,
Trying to assess its might . . .

– – – – – – – – – — – – – – – —

But over here I stopped. . .I got blank and could not finish it off. I realized even I have these questions growing but my thoughts are yet incomplete. I tried to consciously mull over this poem. . . maybe mold it in a shape that I can make it presentable, however, something made sense to keep it like — raw and imperfect.

There is something alluring in imperfection…as a Computer Scientist I am trained to write the “perfect code” . . . bashing out error free logic and utilizing almost fault-proof algorithms. . .nevertheless, the imperfection of my thoughts, the ability to struggle, the reason to keep beating myself up for my craft and my ideals and to make sense of it all, everything looks so engaging.

So while no one gets to read this, this is my solace. Everything doesn’t have to perfect. . .its the small things in my life that are slowly gelling together and giving me perspective. In time I will also realize the reason for all the struggle and the pain I feel now.

We are who we think we are. I am just getting ready for real life. One year left. . .so many hopes and aspirations survive. Time to make some of them count.

*inspiring music in the background as the writer begins his slow walk in the sunset on an abandoned road*


About hackback

Everyday I'm shufflin.
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