Death of a Taurean

I woke up to my Facebook profile set alight by updates on star signs. Most of them had frowns attached with them, as if it was universally accepted 'bad news'. This caught my curiosity. Like all intellectuals on the planet, I decide to google the words "star signs news" and look for a source to satisfy my curiosity. My curiosity was satisfied, and I soon had a frown on my face too. Apparently, my star sign had changed. I, a Taurean, was not a Taurean anymore. I belonged to the star sign 'Aries'. I don't even know what those people are called. Arians, perhaps ?

I thought about it for a moment. I was confused, thoroughly confused. How could the star signs have changed ? How could there be a new star sign in the middle of the calendar ? Did they miss the set of stars when they were doing their astronomy hocus-pocus ? I was devastated. What I was confused about was that I had lived all my life being stereotyped as a Taurean, and living up to it for the most part, but now was I supposed to spring out a whole new personality with a new set of vices and virtues that fall under the Aries stereotype, or was it one big cosmic mistake in the first place. Were they wrong all along, and had they finally gotten it right, or are they making something out of nothing this time around. I was lost. Could this really be happening ? I was getting end-of-the-world images in my mind ! ...Alright, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.

Then, I had an epiphany - and it's not the name of some fancy sandwich. I was not ready to be governed by some extremely random set of stars. There was more to life than that, living under guidance from utter bullshit. I was not ready to be part of this interstellar street play. I was not going to be stereotyped anymore. Hence, I became me. And then I had some coffee to clear my head.

The Definition of a Perfect Winter Evening

Sixteen years ago, I would have spent a winter evening playing silly games with my cousins. Seventeen years ago, I would be in my mother's arms, wrapped up in layers of warmth. However, the one evening I do seem to remember vividly is one which I spent neither with my mother, nor with the rest of the lot. It was an evening I spent with a girl. A girl, special in ways I cannot describe...

I remember how she lit up when she saw me first. I bet she couldn't say the same - I was glowing on the inside. She said "hey", I gestured hello. They say nothing can beat the high that pure chocolate gives you. I had gorged on chocolates that day, the very best kind. I was happier somehow, going against what they say...

We stood there, hung around, we chatted for a bit, completed the formalities, bid our goodbyes to the rest of them and drove off to a distant place. More solace means you have to put less effort into listening to what she's saying. She's so soft, it's almost a whisper. Not when she's angry though, 'cause then she's just loud. She doesn't care. I don't care...

She wasn't wearing anything warm. She didn't ask me for mine. I wanted to offer it all along. I didn't. I just hoped she was warm enough. Now that I come to think of it, I should have done it, shouldn't I ? Well, we carried on. We sipped on her favourite drink, and it's not a Bloody Mary. It's much simpler, much cooler - almost like herself, one might think. If it wasn't for the warmth, I'd have started feeling cold from the drink, and the winter breeze...

The Sun was just about announcing that it was time to go. For itself, and for us too. She said goodbye, and this time she had a slightly shy smile on her lips. I said goodbye too, and I had a hint of a smile on mine.