I found this on a scrap of paper between the pages of “Rubaiyat of Omar Kayyam” by Edward Fitzgerald:
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It is tough being on the middle of the road not knowing and not wanting to cross to either side because it is a stranger world out there. It is better maintaining status quo, waiting to be crushed between two speeding trucks – preferably the huge ones and I will be splashed on both like a cheap advertisement “End of someone, end too late.”
While I stood there precariously balanced on the barricade against loss of senses, I started losing memory of time, space and possibly everything unknown. Damsels walked past sure of flitting their skirts at the right moment, gays displaying boldness and promiscuous taunts, the old behaving like young, the young borrowing strange attire, lovers, dogs and the like strutted past. I held onto my territory. This was the last guarantee.
Forever in the middle. Never the child and never assuming full-blown maturity. Not the untouchable nor lynched by a sacred thread. Not poor nor rich to think about money. Wish I was an idiot and lived like a veggie in an asylum rather than being not-so-intelligent or not-so-talented. If I was pessimistic, I could have had deep furrows on my forehead or preached boldly about philosophy or communism or freedom if I was an optimist. If I had borrowed Western culture, I could have pretended not to have any and be happy. But I have been branded by a tattoo which I wish I could scratch off my body. If I was complaining, I could have been at least the anti-establishment guy but I am too happy for that. If I was a total virgin, I could have dreamed of being a saint but I know my sins do not even have the power to scare me with nightmares. I wish I did not have friends so that I could be a loner but I hang around on the fringe of parties hating the crowd. Any kind of music or story or poem thrills me but I am deaf, dumb and blind.
Should I cross?
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