Punctuality matters but it’s never too late to try once more. All one needs to do is go out, spread wings and fly away. And while one’s at it, keep a chute handy. After all, life is too short to waste on measurements. One could be a few dozen year old or so but a millions of seconds older. Mathematics behaves in hysterical ways with people who are afraid of it.
Our hero in question is one such character who’s afraid of numbers. As a result, he often misses that person he could have been. It’s a disease of sort lately—the symptoms aren’t visible though. Except when he’s suppressing his tears while watching a sullen movie or taking a warm bath. Otherwise he’s someone who appears to have figured everything out; even supernovas and black holes that bother Stephen Hawking at nights. He tries to spend his life in reverie, making up stuff. Blending PG Wodehouse and Philip Roth together in his skull is his favourite hobby. His brain is activer than it should be. He imagines a lot in order to give John Lennon a chance. But sometimes even his imaginary friends turn out to be real and that’s when he realizes how f—ed up he really is. Aimless contention is the key. Or safe words, if you will. He fails to give up and tries way too hard at times. In hindsight, he’s well-acquainted with himself. And that is something not many can claim for themselves. In more aesthetic terms, he knows he sucks. As a kid, he looked up to Mowgli and Mario 'cause they were always pretending to fly. The funny thing is he still does.