I guess I’m on my writing muse today. I’m always on a dilemma that I might have been born in the wrong generation. In this fast paced world, productive culture, and capitalistic society, I yearn for soft and slow life. Growing veggies, be a housewife maybe, have cattle animals, slow mornings, sleeping early, being close to nature, travelling, etc. I cannot even openly admit that among all those mouth watering foods out there, I like plain rice and mashed potato and butter. Sounds hilarious to people, sometimes I become victim of various mocking or spiteful comments like my taste is utterly rubbish. From the very childhood, I have tried hiding my preferences. I would never admit that I love rice, I would never admit that I like hand woven blankets made out of old clothes instead of those posh and expensive ones. That I like taro curry more than chicken fry. That I like walking bare feet. That I prefer simple non-expensive sandals over Apex or Bata. That I despise wearing makeup. That I absolutely hate buying unnecessary clothes.
I have tried to be like those ambitious girls out there. But it just isn’t me. I just don’t fit in. I don’t fit in anywhere. Not in the office settings, homesteading is not even an option. I cannot travel without money. I cannot earn money without fitting in a typical work culture. As if, Allah hasn’t made me competent at all. I don’t belong to this present life, I’m not prepared for the afterlife. Can win nowhere.
