I wouldn’t like to use this term loosely but there are days when I am more anxious than the regular days. It could be triggered by any small thing, like a bad dream, a silly Pinterest quote, something that I saw in a movie, a song. What I am learning is, each day is not the same. And some days take a lot of effort from me to stay focused. I can’t help it when the feeling kicks in but keeping my phone away helps, talking to friends helps, talking to your dear ones makes the feeling go away, writing does it too. These are strange times indeed, and then we all have our inner battles to tackle. They say, time fixes things; heals old wounds. I would just call it a bad day and go to sleep. Jittery nerves will figure their way out slowly. Steadily.
I barely remember what I last wrote about. Loosening ties with myriad things from the past. Is time playing its magic trick? Life is changing. Some days for the better, some days for the worst. I have become more subtle with my reactions and it sometimes scares me. I guess things still affect me but I express them in a more feeble manner. It is hitting more hard than ever to me that everything I experience is fleeting. All the priceless moments and all the tormenting nights. How does one stay sane amidst this chaos of variation? Where nothing is consistent, each day is a new challenge, and any slight indication of stability turns into a farce. I am a living paradox of patience and restiveness. Count me for ages but lose me by the hours. Working on my flaws, taking up healthy habits, getting better each day. Consistency comes with time, isn’t it?
I am all over the place. Certain life situations break your heart into pieces. Make you feel like this is the end of it all. Everything slipping out of hands. One having no control over the present. You just have to live through the wretched train of events.
The end of anything beautiful is always painful. Though you pictured and recreated the end in your head a zillion times…this is how it will end..and this is how I will deal with it. And you distance yourself from anything that could remotely hurt or even prick you. Fixed, coped, mended yourself. Let time play its magic on you.
And still, here I am…almost akin to a bruised puppy. Thought I had excelled the art of letting go. It’s funny how time flies and your feelings don’t even budge a centimeter. I read this somewhere…Love what you love with reckless abandon. And what if it only torments you in return?
Live the pain. Embrace it. I would say revel in it. Don’t make your emotions subject to a person’s action. And then love and laugh a little more. Don’t they say every end is a new beginning?
I wish your eyes spoke exactly what my eyes heard, in that moment.
I wish our words found a little more than a few seconds for exchange.
I wish we weren’t so alike and our worlds so different.
I wish we didn’t have enough reasons to run amok; that we weren’t so flawed.
I wish our silliness could go on, no formalities to pile on.
Sometimes, I wish the time to stop and not pass me by.
Sometimes these things, you just can’t deny.
Ah! Another December. Aren’t they intense? And aren’t they inexplicably beautiful, in thought and sight? Don’t they make you put your thinking caps on? Winters suddenly feel chillier. And you sit and start looking back at the year gone by. How it changed you. How you evolved into something different. Last heard, this time of the year, you were some version of yours and now you have upgraded to xyz.2015.1.0. You met new people, got into new jobs, went through some break ups, gained some pounds, lost some pounds, travelled new lands, created new memories. Now, as December heralds, there is this urgency in my head, that the moments I have lived shouldn’t fade. Where do I store them? How do I remember them all? The year-end is coming close and it feels like something is escaping my hands too. Wish I could make a movie of it all and save in my hard disk as I do with other good stuff I find online. Is this why they say every beautiful thing comes to an end? And every end is a new beginning?
Dear December, I want to hold you close and not let go. But as we don’t have that option, let me embrace you in all your flavours and cherish your charm, till it lasts.
Roots. Places you belong to. The home where your heart is. Roads that you have treaded for years, time and again. People who have shaped what you are today. Surroundings where your childhood crackled; your teenage strolled, snooping and sneaking. The laughter, the fights. You have been through it all, right here. Your base foundation. The soil whose scent you cannot wane. A place that holds memories so many, you can’t ever finish recollecting.
We tend to drift away. We change and grow and evolve. We meet new people, see new places, plan on seeing newer places. Move to greener pastures and similar stuff. Our roots though, they are instilled like how salt dissolves into water. Not much to say today. Just that, NEVER forget your roots people.
They say nights belong to poets and madmen.
Everything works out…life goes on..we walk past the moments gone by…you carry on..I move on…things happen..days run along..minutes turn into months and months shape into years…seasons roll by…flip flap flip flap…time slips away like water through my hands…I settle..I sober up..normalcy runs through my veins again..BUT nights….darn the nights don’t pass..they feel eternally long.
Do you ever feel like your time is running out? Like you only have two hands, one heart, one mind and a hundred of things to accomplish. I have been bad at time management, since forever. Somehow, things always worked out by themselves. I am amongst those, “in the last moment” kind of people. My productivity/energy increases as I reach towards the deadline. So say when I am supposed to work on something(not talking about my job here!), I’ll be listening to songs instead, fully aware of the toll it would cause me later.
I am doing it right now, 2 am..supposed to sleep for office tomorrow and I am penning down some shit load of tangled thoughts running in my head. Someone tell me what is normalcy? I think I had it at some point of time…and then I moved on..and left it where it was. I guess it is okay to be weird and not proclaim that you are weird. I guess I am a subtle form of weirdo who tries usual stuff and then gets bored and then again gets back to her unusual routines.
Meanwhile, I am having this love hate kind of a relation with technology, where certain aspects of it are really bugging me, urging me to time travel back to simpler days and then I am even abusing the privilege at full throttle. What to do? Life is puzzling.
This weekend has been a relaxing one. A little too relaxing I would say. When you are not doing anything, your mind runs in myriad directions. It dwells into the past, it tries to foresee the future. Either way, you sit back and contemplate and draw new conclusions for yourself. I have had very less interaction with the outside world since last three days and ample of time to ponder. Probably one of the reasons why I am writing down right now. I slept, went out for a stroll, I ate, I shopped, I read the news, and now I am writing. I could talk to my friends but I would rather not for today. Some are away. I guess the ones I wanna talk to are away. Anyway. There I was wondering, given to my weekend free time. Procrastination could be coined as a disease. It’s doing me lot of harm. I have activities lined up in my head and no urge to carry them forward. No push. No zeal. If only, something inside me could twist and curl and turn me all spunky! More disciplined. About my guitar lessons, my routine, about my unfinished novels, about numerous other stuff. I want to outgrow these stupid little weekend thoughts. Work it girl! There is no other go. They won’t have a cure as they haven’t termed it a disease yet. May be I’ll come up with a more activity-filled article next weekend if things go right. If my head works right I mean!