Ambition has never been one of my distinguishing factors as far as I can remember. I have never wanted to lead anyone, change things in the world for better, or even invent anything. As a matter of fact, I would not have ended up in media if it was not for the circle of friends that I used to hang out with. They were fascinated by the headlines, bylines and the charm of the arc light reflected on the faces of the many television stars. I came here by chance, not by purpose and somehow I have managed to make a living out of it. But it is not home. Nothing is home.
It has been a long journey from the shy kid to whatever I represent today. Facades are easy to do, but the old shadows still fall over it and when they overlap, they serve to only intensify the darkness. The old ones are nothing but the realisation that there is nothing that you can do where it matters the most. Somehow, nothing can quite save the lumbering spectacle of a failed family. At the best it enthuses you to run as far away as possible, after you have had your fill. At the worst, it only tends to suck you down into its maddening vortex of twisted emotional currents.
Therein lies the root of the feeling that is so often mistaken for things varying from love to competition. The feeling that wants to give up on no one, regardless of how right or wrong it might be or how impractical or stupid it might look. Kindness is something that is easily taken than given, out of which is born the elusive child of consideration. In my panicked quest to offset my ineffectiveness, where it has to matter, I offer it in plenty. Not in expectation of something better in return, but in the hope that maybe there is a little bit I could do. You never know.
When the eventual separation comes, it is peaceful like nothing else. In fact, the anticipation hurts more than the actual event. I have a feeling the event has started for me. When the hinges finally let go, the pain is mine alone to bear. It is my singular and unexplainable burden. But I don't feel much pain for myself. What I feel is for those I have left behind. Finally, I have been pushed beyond the level where I don't feel them anymore. They never saw the boy who once lived, nor will now they ever see the boy who died. Consideration surely is an elusive child.