We've grown up now.

We wake up from our messy beds every morning only to deck up for a day sweating of work or study or both and sometimes we forget to knot the tie to our hidden temptations.

Think about a swanky make-over to our room or the pleasurable disaster of an outrageous dish. How often does it happen? We all want to throw a bucket full of paint into our lives but the bail seems to be stolen. Or has the cloudburst washed it all away.

The little excitements that life carries are bushed out of serotonin. When rain droplets waltz across the window pane and we skate our finger along, is it exciting? Or when we return our glance at picture frames in the dusty showcase, or the ridiculous doodles in the corners of notepads, is it exciting?

The colors of a playground, the sequins on letters from friends, potted friendship bands, muddy college paths on rainy days, songs re-visited, all draw stripes onto a plain day of mine. The excitement is like when you see your favorite person’s chat name flash in the taskbar. Small yet significant.

We see kids trotting on alternate tiles or laughing at their friend’s milkshake mustache but where are we? In a robotic routine that makes our everyday, even Sundays have lost their dignity. Its true that the childish fantasies of the coming tomorrow or the thrill for ordering Chinese is not what it used to be like. But this is absurd.

We have all tried to look up at the sky during the rains. The only difference, is that the thrill never grew up with us.