An artist can never be happy. A happy person can never be an artist or at least a True Artist. That’s what my friend says. My friend who I like calling Ashton is a wise guy. Not your average intelligent guy but a Wise guy. He is wise to an extent that he doesn’t speak much. Not that he is shy. Get into a debate with him in a topic he is well read about and he will make sure that you never speak about that ever again. Some fools would still try but then there are always fools around. Also he is well read about everything in the world. Talk about cultures, ancient history, languages, art, leaders, politics, feminism….. seriously anything. All his life he has read books. To me he seems like a person who carries all that ancient knowledge and wisdom and like an alchemist who can prepare a magic potion that can solve all my problems. Oh yes I forgot, we are not talking about my friend as of now. We were talking about the words he said to me. “A happy person can never be an artist”. But I have been forever unhappy yet I haven’t produced anything worthwhile that can establish me as an artist. As a child I was a person of many interests, of course other than studies. I loved all the artsy things like painting, sketching, making paper models of cars and bikes and like any other kid I loved dressing up as a favourite superhero and jump around. As an athlete I was a big failure. The year I was determined to win the 100 meter sprint in school, I broke my arm. Although I did take part in the race while still in the cast in spite of my mom’s worries. I never won anything in sports. On the other hand when my choice of joining karate classes in summers was overruled by my parents and I was put to learn classical music, things got worse. Music became a full-time hobby. I won many singing competitions and my expectations with myself kept on increasing. What happened then is another story, maybe some other day, but today I am going to tell you about general things. General things like in a Woody Allen movie. I personally feel so very close to Woody Allen that I almost imagine myself frequently breaking the fourth wall and talking to some third person, maybe a supreme being, one who is supposed to be watching this. As a feeble person at heart I just can’t say ‘no’ to people. That’s where all my problems begin. I have too many worries and insecurities originating from my very own mind. I have no reasons to be like that. And this affects the relations I have with people around, but why am I telling you about this. This is because I find it difficult not to fall in love. Every time I get close to a girl I start feeling attached and if this continues for a few weeks I get totally love struck. I think I am a compulsive romantic. And obviously girls don’t see it that way. They find me interesting, they find me nice but they also find me incapable of giving them stability and the kind of security a woman needs from a MAN. That’s the whole catch. I am not a Mel Gibson Kind of man. I am a Woody Allen kind of man and that too without a job. I used to think that material things in life can be dealt with. After all with my education I can get a job any day, but Love was something to be pursued, love is something to be aspired. That’s when I got hit on my head with reality. I realised that I have not been serious about things that actually makes you a person who is loved in today’s world. Love is bullshit, it’s just about having an understanding, an equal footing, commitment to make ends meet or on a more subliminal note its about being capable of being a worthy and fitting parent to the kids you share. I now feel that even if a girl falls in love with me, the way I am, then ‘WE’ are in big trouble. I can’t handle life and she won’t be able to handle me. And also Why should someone handle a 25-year-old guy?? Who wants that?. I claim that I can change, that I can improve but why would some girl want to be a part of that transformation when there are plenty of guys already ‘There’. Love or not, someday I am going to get married because I am an Indian guy but lately I have started worrying that even if I get a job, even if I get married would I be happy? Would I be able to keep it together? That’s where my friend’s words ring in my head “A happy person can never be an Artist”………. maybe I need that……. maybe my masterpiece is still in the coming…… so I guess it’s better for me to remain gullible and get heartbroken all the time……… and yes I still miss her.