I have wondered as to how and why we keep doing things we do. It is not only what we do in work, rather things we do with our life and in our life. Genuineness as someone said should be unadulterated. But as it is, it never is, is it? I would want to be honest with myself, and that is one thing I wouldn’t want to compromise with. Cent percent unadulterated genuineness with the self.
I wandered through my memoirs and searched for moments when I was what I am/was. I found but a few of them. And those were the moments of utter bliss, I recall. But they are lost, lost within the bruising reality that is life.
But I wouldn’t admonish myself, for what I am. Rather, I propose a toast for what I am, a human, with all the misgivings and the misdeeds I embody within me.
