Untitled joys of sorrow

I am walking in the streets alone. And there goes my friend, walking, laughing, chattering with his girlfriend; they are walking hand in hand. He didn’t noticed that I am behind him. And that ignorance is letting me relish this scene. Not many traffic on road, the pavement is almost empty, except a few beggars. I do pity for them, I feel guilty when I see them noticing me. Why did beggars have to be beggars? I am again watching my friend, laughing. His girlfriend may be telling him a joke. That’s nice! It really feels good, when I see a couple happy with themselves. There are still few good left in this world! Thunder crackled, they looked at each other, eyes glistening with joy, they are running for shelter as the rain begins to fall down. These beggars are reading themselves for the rain, if they could just run for shelter! As the drops of water is falling down from a few kilometers above, I am weeping.

I am standing in the front of the rail crossing, there is a crowd around it. A man just died, he collided with a train. It’s a pity. Did the old man have to die? His family is here at the spot now. The old man’s death made them irritated more than it made them sad. How strange! I am going away from the crossing now. His family don’t care, why should I? Huh, it’s funny that I am thinking like that.

I am standing on the edge of the roof of a four story building. And I am looking down. What if I jump from here? Who will become sad for me? Who will cry for me? Why am I living? I never did succeed in something difficult, and I may never will. So why am I struggling shamefacedly. Why should I hang my head before everyone? I don’t need to live. I am stretching my muscle to jump. And now I am on the roof, lying, and the man is panting, “Why were you trying to jump? Thank god I was here!” I am standing up slowly and now I am walking for the stairs. I will be crying all night.

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