The inklings of an ending

Watching reruns old sitcoms on languid Friday afternoons,sprawled out with a glass of coca-cola,
my idea of freezing time.Like savouring comfort food.
It hits me hard that a few months down the line,I'll never be able to come back from school and wile away time watch television will never be possible again,and the knowledge hurts.
I stare at dappled sunlight on my ceiling on Saturday mornings,contemplating life in blank verse-
I stare at the sunlight long enough for it to look like the roof is growing wings,I never did enjoy magic realism too much.The point of living seems to be a non-existent dot.A period at the end of a sentence.
Propped up against the cold tile wall,swabbing a wound with a cottonball of Dettol,I hear the sounds announcing the arrival of night,as I think to myself "Is this all?"
And then,as if on second thought,I steal away an old,empty bottle of Musk scented Old Spice."Smell like a man" it reads..The bathroom sure smells like a macho man,then.
Again,I stare at the ceiling till it resembles one of a high-rise one with Fresco paintings,a museum's.
If I could close my eyes and transmograte,I don't know where I would go.All the hours seem just as hollow,the promising possibilities just as distant and lackluster.
I'm a giver-upper,I lose faith faster than the blink of an eye-lid,Don't take me too seriously,
Dear Life.

Patron Saint of bias

Is discrimination is dead? Only taught about and talked of as a myth?

Does it only dwell in the inklings of books like To Kill A Mockingbird?
It's something we live with,really.Each day,every day,we breathe it in,we breathe in it-suppressing it,the same way discrimination oppresses us.
So little space for merit,it's filled with despair.They say it doesn't make you any better or worse,but it's hard to ignore the hurt.
It's easy to make big talk about living in the present,for the past could be not so pleasant a place to dwell in.
It's easy to pretend to forgive and forget..but has it ever been that easy,really?
Don't you silently blame someone,too? Yourself for having expectations,maybe?
Try to control your life,breaking into tiniest bits,every little pin in your body in place..and yet met with so much disappointment.And yet we expect,because it's human tendency and we all suffer from the affliction of being faithful.
Rush to fall into the snares of delusion all over again,so said Tagore.