Read a new blog today. And read a certain post. And I realised....I can't write. I don't mean I can't write because I'm not equipped enough but just that somewhere along this twisted road I forgot to write from where it matters. Some days are good when I see a glimmer of who I really am but mostly I'm sure my writing isn't even really me.

These words that stare blankly back at me...do they mean anything? Is this real? Or will I again look back and say this was not me? I want to be able to look past the words I pen down. I want to see what I have penned down. I want to see where they came from. I don't want to be pretentious. I don't want to think I'm writing something worthwhile when it is actually trash. I need to hit the delete button a lot more in my life. Somewhere in the last few months I lost myself in the exact thing that I despise....romanticising the trivial, frivolous things in my life. I became that person I want to slap so hard the minute they sigh. I became a whiner.


         Whine.

                       Whine.

                                         Whine.



But now I stop myself just in time. I don't have the time to whine. I don't feel the need to. I don't have reason to. It's all about perspective at the end of the day isn't it? My perspective shifted in the last few days. It's been a whirlwind. It's been a whirlwind romance with myself. And I'm glowing. I don't feel the need to be loud, vociferous and verbose. I'd rather just not say anything. Been told I talk less these days. I'm glad. I'm proud. One less complication. My head whirs at the speed of light. All the time. Maybe that's why I still remember my dreams. Happiness. I know what you are now. It isn't about a pasted smile or hearty laugh all the time. It's about accepting everything. The joys and the sorrows. It's about peace. Yes, the inside of my head is a cesspool, filled with garbage that should be flushed. Yet, I smile. I smile knowing that the inside of my head is a cesspool, filled with garbage that should be flushed. Cause there must be an outlet somewhere right? I'll float there eventually and that's the thrill. That's the peace.

I leave behind all that is familiar. I have no time to breathe between 20 odd years of something and 20-30 odd years of something else. I will be strapped behind a desk, 10-6, 5 days a week. But can't you just see me beaming? I'm not really there. I'm even smiling now as I write this. A piece of writing which I'm sure is like the rubbish in my head. But it's my rubbish and I love it.




Thank you.
Thank you for making me realise.
Thank you for making me question myself.
Thank you for making me rummage through the trash.
Thank you...




I have tried to flush way too many times. Think I'll just take the dump and flush just that one last time.....