Wandering scribbler..

I was 6 years old when I suddenly developed this habit of cracking silly jokes to make my classmates laugh. I loved to see them laugh, it would make me feel better as this was when my life revolved around personal tragedies of sorts.  A few months later my mother was informed about my habit of turning every situation into a joke and I watched as she cried her eyes out and created a ruckus about this as if it was a grave mistake.  After that day I gave up my defense mechanism.  I became a person who was always bruised by familial tragedies. Sometimes a lot more than anyone else in my family.

It is going to be two years that I moved to Calgary. This place has given me a new identity. A lot has changed in these two years. Things that will take a lifetime of catching up to do. I have my own place now, rented but my own. I have been responsible and irresponsible not in the same order though. I have held myself together in times of crisis and fallen apart at other times. These two years have seen the very best and the worst of me. I haven't written much during this time except for a letter which reached the recipient after 3 long months. The joy of posting a letter for the first time in many years felt wonderful.