If there’s one thing that completely occupies me other than a book, it always will be a journey. Travelling around has been something that I always loved. Unknown roads, uncertain destinations. That’d be how I love it. But yeah, considering my limited resources for such an expedition, I tend to be more than happy with a planned itinerary through the ever same roads. Being alone, having time for yourself, talking to oneself. They are the best parts of a travel. The plugged in headset and the book in hand ruin the tranquility a journey offers. But now if you see me travel, I always have either one of them or mostly both of them with me. They spoil the fun. But they are indispensable to me now. Having time, talking to myself. They are all tiring me. I just dont need time alone. I’d have chosen to write. But now, I dont write that liberally. My writing is limited to my stipulated time slots. So I read. I dont sing. And I dont want to talk. So I listen.

Fear is something that never crept into my journeys. I dont know how could it be possible that I’m actually afraid of something relating to travel? Afraid of bus travel? What phobia is that? Whatever that is, that’s what I’m suffering from. My most dreadful six hours were today! The ones that I’d not forget a life time. The darkness rushing into you, the chill running down your spine. Shivering in the cold outside, and fear inside. Crying and consoling yourself. Acting normal to avoid the stares, dying within to shut down everything around you. It was a wreck. A mishap. Never again happening. Never alone. The fear is abysmal. As much as the darkness. The journey is eerie. As much as the memories that gush out.

Talking aloud your fear calms down, is the crap that I always hear. I have no such stupid notions. My fears go with me to the grave. It gave me a good blog post. That’s all the idea behind ‘screaming’ out your fear! So, all those who read. Dont come and advocate me how pointless is my fear and convince me to get rid off it. Thanks. 🙂