What exactly are we? What is the purpose of our existence?
The only son to old and feeble parents.
The brightest student to a teacher who has just kick-started her career.
The only sister to a household of five brothers.
The best employee to the biggest corporation in the world.
A helping hand to a single mother.
A great friend to another.
We - you and me - all are just a bagful of hopes and expectations. But, funnily enough...these aren't our hopes or expectations we have had; it is what they want from us.
They hope we will make them proud. They hope we will rise up to the expectations. They hope we will be able to fill into their shoes, one fine day.
They hope and hope and hope...
And us? What happens of us? In the midst of all these hopes and expectations that we are supposed to not let down, where do we find ourselves?
Are we really happy with ourselves? Our lives?
Or are we happy that we have pleased someone else? Made their life a better place?
How many of us have given up that big day - the one we have looked forward to since forever - to go do something expected of us? Rather, hoped of us?
Each day you wake up, to conquer new heights. To climb those additional steps. To achieve those dreams. But often, when you get to your ultimate goal, you are not as happy as you hoped you would be. You are there - you have done it - you know...but there is still something missing. Something that the dream lacked all this time. Something you did not give much thought to.
"Hi, I am Doctor..." - "My Mum wanted me to be one."
"Hey, just went shopping - my girlfriend wanted one."
"He's been begging me to buy him one. It's Christmas. I don't want to disappoint him."
So is that all we are?
Fulfillers of everyone else's dreams and hopes and expectations, thrown our way, whether we like it or not?
Why can't we for once, get something we hoped for? For ourselves. A mere pass. Not a doctor, but a theatrical actor. Not something big, but something small and simple. And possibly cheap, because we are saving up for that big something for ourselves.
Me. Us. We. Why, them?
I am a bagful of hopes. I know that. The only thing is, none of that hope is mine.
And that is what bothers me.