For the past three days, I’ve been running around town butt-naked screaming “Eureka” on top of my voice. I’ve been jumping up and down screaming nonsense and thumping everyone I meet on their backs. I’ve been gazing up at the stars and smiling broadly to myself, oblivious to the stares and sniggers and calls of “Loony” and content with myself and my nudity life. I’ve been on top of the world. I’m on cloud number nine and I want to go higher. And I wasn’t even drunk.
So, what’s gotten me into this phase? Could it be a promotion? Could it be a pay-hike? Could it be that I met the girl of my dreams? Could it be that I’ve finally realized how stifling clothes are? Could it be that I’m finally run out of sanity? No. I think it’s something else.
A decision that’s been weighing on me for the longest time; a decision that was bound to break barriers and make some noise; a decision that promises to put my whole life into upheaval and turmoil for a long time; a move that could make or break me; a move that would define who I am and what I’m made of; a decision that should be made once in a lifetime. I took that decision.
I’ll reveal what that is a bit later. Right now, I’m busy running around naked.