Melancholy for a Lover gone

Clairvoyance, you fill my heart with relief
Is it that knowing, gives you peace?

Yet, there is a silver storm I fear
In distance, dark, but somehow near

In my reverie a creature stands ashore
Yearning, in the direction that the wind blows:
It hopes, in innocence,
Hopes in faith,
Hopes that praying shall heal all pain

I catch myself and wake up to find,
A clock, some papers and an old file behind

Yes, I ape that life taught smile
Yes, I pause that awkward cry
Yes, I  left those flowers to dry
No, I did not,  break down or cease to try

As I inch closer to the harbor
I hear a deafening clamor

I freeze mid-step, as the fog clears:
I see, I listen, and retreat in tears

I meandered the streets that night
With rains that cut short my sight

Elated, did not, that moon look
Nor did that night, silence took

The resounding of seen, the calling of what is known
Will give you resolution but never any more hope

And what was gone the morning, come
Was my lover, my friend and my favorite rum.

Ramble-oodle !

A very very stupid, and a plaguing-ly common existential FAQ; yet, this seems to have taken roots in my head. And the closer I get to the day I turn a year older or in my case twenty-seven years older, I really can't laugh it off or sleep upon it anymore. Chocolate or no chocolate, I honestly want to know - what the fuck am I doing? No, like really. 

I know I have a job, I pay my bills, I guess you could say I socialise. 

But here's what else: I don't even like my job, I don't have savings, I don't get to travel as much as I'd like, I don't earn as much as I think I should be earning ( no, not think. I definitely do not earn), I don't have a car, I don't have a parent/ guardian to co-sign a loan application, I don't have an MBA, and I don't have a ring on my finger, I am also not 20 Kgs lighter like I had planned. 

Oh, and that conceited assumption that I went around the whole of my life with- that I am creative, well that's colossal balls too. Turns out, I am not. 

I guess there is a latent gene of creativity in every human being, and therefore, by default I could be creative. But I am Lazy, no matter what the tarrot-cards' lady says. I AM.  I have never bothered giving a fart towards honing/ exploring whatever this creativity within me was all about. But, like they say, Ignorance is bliss-  I assumed I was creative, because when I was younger, I could sing (without a clue about chords or notes), I could dance (like I din't have two left feet) , I could speak (I can really faff, without blinking an eye), and what I could not communicate orally, I could write . But please,  for every 100 people out there, 98 really write well. The remaining two can do their math well. Not to mention days of my school years spent on art and craft projects- truth be told, I just have a colour sense. But then, again, these are colours. Who doesn't? Even a toddler knows his colours basis what visually appeals to him.

In a recent turn of events, when I was asked to sketch, with a certain set of artists - I produced a sheet of paper with Doodle scribbled over it.

I go to music festivals, and I kick myself for not knowing how to play an instrument. 

Being multi-lingual , knowing 4 languages, is pointless if all the languages are spoken within the country  and on a larger scale, by a 0.2 percent population, worldwide. 

I say to a friend, " I am in an 'eh' mood. Going through an existential crisis kind of a situation but only in a more worldly sense. If I make sense at all. Do I?"

Friend responds, " LOL" 

He then adds, "Twenties are difficult no matter what." 

Great. Does that mean I am going to have it all sorted, when I am thirty? If so, can I time travel to three years later? 

SHIT. I am OLD. Already??? Where did it all go? What did I do!!! 

Shhh....Ommmmmmmmm .....*breathe*...Ommmmmm 

Someday, someday....just that today, is not that day. 

P.S. My peers/ colleagues/ friends all seem to be doing really well. Is it just my imagination; or am I cosmically a target???