On the other side of 30

It's been a while I have posted here. What shall I write? Where shall I begin? Past few days, I've had them all to myself. Though dreamily waking up only with spasms of cough that i leap to my feet, and instead of welcoming the beauty of the blue sky, I am unable to smile because of the sadness within. Getting lost, minute by minute. For a while I know where I am. Know what I am doing. Happy with my work. But there is always something missing. Losing my youth? Is it alrite?

But am I learning more about being old. About, sadness. About the loss of youth in my youth. The reflections. Yes, I am learning that. I have seen someone swallow his sadness in coming to terms of old age, someone agree disbelievingly, with tightly shut eyes, that youth does, really does go away, leaving that little finger only for another little finger to grab hold of that one, a child's little finger. Saw men, struggle with existence of some. Curb their enthusiasm because of someone's dictatorship. Listen to someone else's songs as they soothe them, while others wring their hands in agony, and always wondering, and expecting, of a new day to come.Maybe being 30 is about compromises, coming close to one another despite misunderstandings, being young forever in the hearts,but still being the same person. Is it possible? Intrinsically. When you meet them at the right time at the right place. At that right moment, when that beautiful note hits them. They probably know where they are going, carrying that stash, and hungrily grabbing at it,while they sulk in one of their cubicles, wondering about life.