Some people are content to spend hours or number of pages
describing themselves; I am not one of them. You see, I am, altogether a
different matter. I consider myself more of a writer, well not professionally
yet. But its the only thing I am good at after being superbly childish- hyper-
active- neurotic- psycho. I am good though not better with what I do. However,
when it comes to writing about myself I get stuck; its like I’m set to sail
with no map, no compass, nothing...
For hours, the page in front of me remains pearl white. This
unforced idleness drags me down by imperceptible degrees, a little more every
minute. I become like a sailor caught in the despair, waiting with desperation
for the finest amount of breeze to fill my sails and let the journey continue. The
breeze dwells around, but end up sailing me in different latitudes. However,
this time I have made a point to add some extra effort helping myself to evolve
the writing on me.
There again I’m sitting by my balcony, drowned in my
thoughts as to where should I begin about myself and out loud the words come...
Sitting by my
balcony,
Deep drowned in my melancholy.
Where to begin about myself,
Can anyone hear my cry for help?
For hours I’m stuck in the same place,
Finding myself as the unsolvable maze.
And there! I described me,
Dancing around with overwhelming glee.
They call me Dikki, Kiddo, Donald Duck,
And all I say is ‘What the Chuck!’
Willie once said, ‘What’s in the name’
Now you know I’m not a distressed dame.
Boisterous- obsessive- hyper-active- neurotic,
Ain’t I synonyms with kinetic.
And there again, I described me,
Dancing around with overwhelming glee.
Happy go lucky, compassionate and kind,
A little gullible but not blind.
A firm believer in myself,
Sometimes good, sometimes bad just like little elf.
Not ‘creepy’ crazy for John Abraham,
And I’m already hearing people say “Ahem! Ahem!”
Hell yeah! I described me,
Now tired dancing around with overwhelming glee.
