I am always with him; wherever he goes I am bound to stay with him. To be honest, I am the one who decides where he shall be. Yes! He is dependent on me for his living and recreations. I am his wallet.
However, I share a very sad story from in a handcrafted box in a big gift shop to being rugged in the unwashed sweaty jeans for days I have seen it al. I vividly remember the day when his girl bought it for him as a valentines gift and he smiled looking at me. As soon as we reached home he stuffed me with what is usually not in a wallet. I was stuffed with bills instead of cash, visiting cards instead of Debit and Credit cards and Condoms (fucking license) rather than driving license. At that moment I realized bad fate had befallen me, the worst had just happened to me. I was a wallet of a broke jerk. The misery had just begun.
The 1st of every month, I would get a cleanup and I would be puffed with full of notes. That evening I would be manhandled in his drunk hands as he danced and partied at the bar.The money from me would evaporate faster than water droplets under the scorching sun.
Most of the time I would be empty he would remove me whenever he went out to the local food joint but never opened me, seems he was just a big show off. I used to eavesdrop and hear how he always felt he was underpaid and how he had so many commitments and responsibilities to meet. He would always give the lion’s share to his better half who would eventually go out and spend on things like me, which lie uselessly with him.
At times I used to compare myself with an onion, whenever he opened it he would cry. I was like his girlfriend, just bones, no meat. I still found it amusing how he carried me everywhere and protected me and kept me so close to him. Maybe it was the affection he had with me because she had gifted it to him.
This was one uniqueness between us and the humans the emotions and affection for materialistic things. Maybe that’s why they are called living beings and us merely materialistic things.
With this, I just want to share to all this living beings we won’t mind if you purchase my siblings who aren’t as expensive as me as long they don’t make you cry. Because we have known affections aren’t measured in money.
Wallet X the cost effective wallet to store your bucks.
We humans are a very unique creature on the planet Earth. We live a LIFE, a word which everyone depicts a different meaning out of it. We spend all our time trying and aspiring to achieve something, to be something which we are not rather than cherishing about what we are.
We know that there’s something better we can do, there’s a soul out there which is not us but rather someone what it wishes to be. Always rushing trying to win the rat race; forgetting that even if we win the rat race we’ll still be the Rat.
Roy a movie which couldn’t be depicted and understood by the mass audience, rats, so they named it Confused movie. However, from my perspective it had a great lesson to teach to all of us. Think about it this way! Who are we? Don’t think like the dutiful son of your mother or the sincere employee of your boss try to discover who are you? Are you living a life that others wish you to live?
Let me tell you the answer, yes, but you would never admit the fact. We always run from the bitter truth and harsh realities of life. Seldom do people live the life they wish to live, otherwise you see them striving hard to keep up the life that others want them to portray.
Stories, dreams, imaginations are boundless your brains have no boundaries they can wonder carelessly all over just like a the stupid writers pen that cries out everything out without thinking about the margins of the paper. The pain hits the writer’s heart, the pen bleeds and the pain is inflicted on the paper. Poor paper, just like a mother, ready to embrace all the griefs and outshine its victim with a wonderful story to win him accolades.
Maybe that’s what make the writers different, they don’t care about the status quo they live several lives in one, life which they aspire to live they craft it on a paper and the world cherishes about their imaginations.
It might be hard to digest, take it this way, and glance over the past of your life. All the hardships, the achievements, the failures, the broken hearts and incomplete dreams. You can turn your life too in to a novel but we don’t have the guts to show it the people. Writers push it to that extra mile.
That’s what it’s all about so simple yet too complex to digest. In case someone finds the meaning of life, please meet me, as I m still trying to find it out.