"When he grows up, he'll be a great achiever!"
"So smart when so young!, He is sure to be great naa?"
"Tumhara beta toh bahut tez hai!"
Fucking illusions.
Dealing with expectations is tough isn't it? Dealing with your own, thanks to things Uncles and Aunties told about you when you were 6, is hard enough. Dealing with others is a different ball game all together, the mocking in their eyes is tough enough to take without dealing with your parents disappointment.
I'm no superman. damn it, i'm not even daredevil. The Children of destiny, its what we thought we were... kids who were Prodigies, one's who name will not be forgotten by history, and lie not its footnotes but mentioned as great. The achievers. Twenty odd years down the road, bruised filthy and already on our way down a familiar path, we realise we wanted to be those who made their own path instead of worrying about which to take. The dreams of our childhood, the ambitions of our heart now lie vacant, like the lies told to children.
Where is the glory we went out to hunt? Where are the triumphs we wanted, why does it feel so much better to just fall in line and be only slightly better than the rest. We remain unfulfilled prophesies, like a palette of colours ready to paint a spectacular fresco, but one who's artist has given up... to work on something better. The neglected heroes, the could have beens.
The middle children of destiny, thats what tyler calls us. We have nothing, we have made nothing. We didn't fight for our independence, we aren't the messiahs of peace, we are the parasites sitting on top of an infested heap, we are the lords of garbage eaters. We had so much promise (was it false?)... and now we lie here, looking for happiness, looking for something to believe in, wanting a better world, but wanting a world where we still form the infestation pyramid, is it really wrong to ask for meaning? what is this foolish hunt for self-satisfaction when the world burns?
We have become the symbols of plenty. Is that good? i wouldn't know.
But wait, what am i saying? We are the youth, we are the silent force that'll change the world, we will bear the brunt of the old ways, and remember to not pass it on when its our time to go.
Can we aid our world in that little way? can't we as we have failed in so many things, fail once more? fail to pass on the prejudices? Maybe in our shame, even in our cowardice, Fail, so that maybe a different day what should matter to us will succeed. We can't be warriors, can we not at the very least, be martyrs?
We will be remembered, for sacrificing our lives, so that those will come will learn to live the right way.
We will always be, The Half-way there men.
Promises they kept, but they weren't their own,
Battles were fought, though seen they were not,
Remember their names, for they sold their soul,
To let you keep yours, the martyrs of this age,
The Half-way there men.
