Sitting at this same old spot, listening to the same old songs.
You would think that things may have changed even a year after, but no.
I am still a dictionary.
I am still an encyclopedia.
I am still a telephone directory.
I am still a book of maps.
I am still a search engine.
I am still today’s, yesterday’s, two weeks ago’s newspaper.
I am still Superwoman.
I am still The One with Answers to All the Questions You May Have.
Is that all I am to you? Truly?
That I know premises to movies not yet watched; know lyrics to songs not yet heard; know plotlines to books not yet read?
That I am blessed with all the knowledge in the world, laden with all the useless facts and bits of trivia many would have cast aside?
That I am always ready to come up with a satisfactory answer at your bidding, no matter rain or shine?
That I am a knower of everything and anything?
But one thing I really want to know, for now, is this:
Why is it always so easy to think that I am all that; is it really that difficult to believe that I am actually none of the above?