24

Somewhere in middle of all randomness, a fickle-minded teenager is fascinated with life. A 12-13 year old, wondering about life and the general perception of an ultimate purpose. The defining moments of this marathon. And the uncertainty of it's much glorified climax. What did I want? I had no idea. All the surroundings suddenly shredded all its glitterati. The sole purpose seemed imaginary to the kid. The arduous continuity in mere living seemed listless. His banal confrontations with the rituals of the every-day-man and his rejections thrown back at him would make him crawl. The apathy and indifference would add to the disgust. The urgent need to add enthusiasm to his monotonous life was felt, which otherwise was tilting towards shaky forms of solace. There began a search for a way to pacify everything that was otherwise. The art of arbitration and seamless imagination was discovered. No better brainwave than to procreate! Who could ever outdo his enthusiasm and his excitement? Jinxed by it's own perfection, that also led to an arbit idea taking shape. It was accompanied with a simple obsession of the number 24. Motivated by the lack  of purpose.. the temptation to discontinue the vicious circle.. to fiddle with the process.. the excitement of testifying the redundancy thus uncovered.. a whim..
The idea was to stop - to end it all at 24 years, randomly. The idea revolved around a lot of positive energy and an incitement to all the frenzy and the dynamism that could exist. A whim that made no sense, but neither did anything else.

Now, coming of age, I look back and smile. Sometimes I laugh, at myself. But here's the misgiving. What do I want? I have no idea..