Custard, anyone?

  
  If you'd imagine being dunked in a swimming pool sized vat of sick, thick, yellow custard and trying to get out of it, it would accurately describe what I feel right now. No matter how much you flail your arms or try to swim,  as you may already know. custard is too damn thick to allow any movement - it'd weigh you down like a ton of (yellow) lead. Even if you do manage to stay afloat and swim, you can't get far. Not with all that stuff of toothpaste-ish consistency all over you making you feel sluggish and lazy. In such a scenario, I imagine the only thing you can do is...get used to the smell of custard.

 ...Does anyone have any idea why I am talking about custard?

  The thing is, I'm running out of ideas about where I want to reach with this adoption angst, the search, the general anger towards everyone who I feel is holding me back - though I fully realise that that person is probably only me. It's one thing to be strong and firm in the face of nothing working out, it's quite another to be foolishly optimistic about it working out in the first place. I don't know what I hoped to achieve by all this crusading. Apart from hurting everyone around - people I care for, my parents and close friends, I haven't achieved anything. So, what next? I would like to take this ahead, use it for something. A friend suggested I write a book about my struggle (what kind of end would this book have? I can't fake a happy ending with a blissful reunion if that didn't actually happen), maybe I could set up an organisation to help others like me search for their biological parents, I could become a singer/artist/musician/writer and indulge in a bit of Freudian sublimation...?


Note :
*No offence intended to anyone who has a fondness for custard.
*No custard was wasted in the making of this blog post.