Crying over spilled milk

The elusion was the only thing I could wish for, but the memoire of gone by days did not evaded me easily. Falsifying fact of being independent and financial gratification did not last lost. Comparison was inevitable and absurd but we have at least something to flaunt our worth and materialistic achievement.

Might the battle have won but the lost the war intrinsically?  The insurgency kindled and sooner robbed all the peace of mind and swaying waves of jealousy entered with the gift of frustration and hatred.  Pink turned to blue and then grey.  The enmity of fate and destiny triumphed over hard work.

Another new sedan and new villa proved the culmination of owner and smirked off others. Wishes and greeting wasn’t warm as often cited rather the smoldering faces of visitors offered the best reward to the owner. The show went a blockbuster and the showman turned to be a new icon of society. The nightmare broke into stability and soundness of mind.  The veiling sound of heart can be heard only in solitude.  

The melodrama might not prevail more than a couple of days or week but the suffuse will. Gradually killing and smoldering within. The last and only possible solution was to elude to some uncharted territory however the chances of avoid these creepy technologies seems vague. And so do with society. The last I could wish for was to replicate the success but that could only give a seasonal solace and the idea to relinquish it started haunting every now and then.  The defeat had accepted and comparison was over.