Which?

ich?So which of the two is the tracks you would prefer to your wheels rattling on? Something that you have juddering through for the last three years - but boy! Mind you, the gravels on the track are well qualified to make trip and lick the dirt of the ground - or, a well furnished bed of roses, where firstly your feet will not be stinking after a lengthy gruesome ride, and secondly your limbs will not be succumbed to exhaustion - the only merciless factor being that that track is actually knitted with you fascinations, and you have to be man enough to get it down to the levels where it can sneak through into veracity.
Once again, the former track has boulders of regressions, daunts, mind storming numbness inhibitions that are well geared to pluck you out of your ecstasy. However, the latter one is - as already been claimed to be a bed of roses; smelling pretty, maybe giving you nothing but at the end of the road, you’re making sure you will not be losing out on your share of exhilaration and the drive that will inevitably make you strive forward and probably lets you free to go for the kill!
Okay, so one of the bombarding questions set up to imperialize your hub can be, that why go for the former in the first place? But nonetheless, that is not something to be so incredibly drenched under; lets just say your own realizations betrayed you; you ran out of expectations towards them, and well now you’re out of time as well. Wish winding up the hands of the clock could actually get the time to slip back. Poor, innocent soul, aren’t it?
So how is sanity defined? Does it hold the traditional explanation; or would anyone please customize it? The former track might be a judder, but then there is a surety that that one might end up somewhere fruitful. And the nearest implication to the mention of the ‘fruitful’ is a well furnished life; name, wealth, recognition… However, and maybe, the other one might be umpteen hazy; you cannot bank upon the fact that this one could lead you somewhere. Agreed, that you’re spellbindingly in love with this one, but that MAY OR MAY NOT bring the shades of success, and all the ones that already have already been called above.
Now if running your eyes through this piece snoops in perplexing lexis, and the shades of (traumatizing) confusion, I should palpably be contemplating for a mind scratching, obnoxious, grotesque tangle for myself, huh?
Judging between the two journeys is certainly a daunting task, but really, which one should be kept in focus for? Conventionalities, or ecstasy? Now here’s a funny bit of a survey. All friends - on being asked for the same - went in for the latter one; certainly seemed they were more inclined on the affection towards it rather than the scope and the ‘money’ it could’ve brought in. Call it immaturity - well, that’s your call; but you simply cannot wipe off the fact that even 20 year olds got brains off the table, can you? Now, pouring light in the civilization of parenthood, I was asked to purchase the contrary; funny contrast, huh? Now, cal it their maturity, experience, the want to get my name fluttering and breezing amid the big ones.
And please, for some people who just adore experimenting with their lives and who cannot resist the mix and match attribute, well the two seeds I’ve mentioned cannot get along collectively. You cannot expect a magnum opus out of my life by simply coupling the two of them. Associatively, I do not wish to get down and argue about the same.
Once again, its back to square one. Ecstasy or conventionalities?
Another ground of concerns is the fact that despite the mammoth score of the number of bricks on the wall constructed between the two polarities, each of them fights for a larger possession. And instead of conflicting with traumatizing inhibitions (which actually happens after a notorious drive into exhaustion and tiredness because of the Armageddon between the two), you prioritize to let both of them settle for an equal share. And then the game of swings and switch overs bumps in. Whenever you go in for the former one, you feel you’re killing your own happiness, you’re making yourself succumbed to the darkness plagued with morsels of anguish of agony. Or to say, you’re cutting down your own wings of creativity, innovation and giving it in for an episode of hideous cramming which (is what you feel, still unaware whether the sensations are accurate or not) cannot get you camouflaging to its colours. Once again, on the contrary, when you rush in for the latter one and sideline the first one, you feel you’re choking your future, one that can for sure get you escalated amid the profits.
And by the time you actually come down to drawing out a conclusion, you’ve run out of time. And then you probably aren’t left with anything - be it tradition or the other.