Seriously, that was a lot of ghee

At the check-out line, behind the family with three trolleys, you realise how black your heart has become. This is a surprise. You always thought of yourself as soft-hearted.
But evidently, you are not. You want to run over the kids in the supermarket, and especially plot murder of the lady in front of you.
You notice how one of her trolleys contains only packets of ghee. She seems to have four children. Is there a link? Before you ponder whether ghee boosts libido or does she use it as lubricant, one of her brood brings in one more trolley. She pretends not to see you and uses her well-greased ass to nudge your trolley behind and push in hers.
It clearly is a big day for her daughter, who is wearing Special Clothes. An in-vogue smock with loose tights, red eye-shadow, black liner and a toupee on her legs and hands. She cannot be more than 11 and you are ashamed of judging her. She’s just a young girl who is not allowed to wax yet.
A toddler at the escalator is waving. You notice his unibrow.
Something has gone wrong. You are 28, but keep referring to yourself as a 30-year-old. You can’t remember the last time you had a good laugh. You used to laugh all the time. Uncontrollably. Big, braying laughs that ended in snorts.
You don’t do that anymore.
A day off from work gives you nightmares. Again, this is not according to plan. You were going to be a Free Spirit, Questioning Authority, Living Life On Your Own Terms and be a Travelling Musician.
Nevermind that you don’t play an instrument. You were supposed to learn it from bedraggled, long-haired poet who would break your heart.
You know people who head magazines and then take time off to write and compose an album and are going to be touring the world to promote it soon. In between all of this, they have found the time to turn 22.
You went looking for your calling and discovered a career instead. It’s not so bad. It pays for the air-conditioning and the shoes.
Maybe you just need a new plan.

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