What will you write and what will you hold back on a few sheets of paper, two dozen sheets of paper, on a quire.
Will you write about the event of your recent past? About the girl, you met after four years of being away. It was a just a little glimpse but it forced a burning sensation through your chest, a pain you felt a few years back and it remained, until she looked at your from the corner of her eye and smiled? Or will you write about the time when everything was fine between the two of you and the magical wonders you had built for yourselves? The ones you wished you saw together, the one you wish you will see together.
Or will you write about the treasures you have hidden in the past? Or the ones you believe are in the future? Will you write about the deeds undone but planned for a few days, months or years ahead? Or will you write about the deeds you have done but were never medalled, never forgiven?
About your whole life in bullets and pointers, squeezing it as short as you can just to fit it all in a quire? Or will you write about the one moment you treasure from cover to cover? Everything that happened on that one particular day, or week, or trip in details that will make you visit the past all over again everytime you read it?
And who reads your quire? Everyone in the world knows your little happy-sob story, about the moments you treasure the most. Or will you take it to the grave with you, like a secret kept for years and something that dies with you?
What will your quire hold? When you know, “Everything you touch, will die slowly”.
Everyone has their own perspective about you. They have an image about that you cannot change. We spend our lives trying to change something about ourselves in the eyes of someone who doesn’t even matter. We try to tweak our image for people who have already figured out who you are after meeting you for a few minutes.
All of us here are trying to get that little change in our lives that can change what everyone thinks about us. But sometimes, even after you manage to get what you think might change everything, people call it blatant luck and that you were not worthy of it.
We have our own definitions about lucky and we determine who is lucky and who is unlucky.
The people who got jobs in the corporate world are the lucky ones while the ones who struggle are the unlucky ones.
The ones who are pursuing their dreams are the lucky ones while the ones on jobs are unlucky ones.
Someone who sold themselves to make their passion a career, but got their ‘break’ and became successful are the lucky ones, while for some, the people who still know their self-worth are the lucky ones.
The ones suffering from self-pity and overwhelming sadness are luckier than the ones who are terminal, while the ones who are terminal are at least not planning to commit suicide every day, they are the lucky ones.
While all of us are being sucked at in the corporate lives and are drenched of energy trying to do things we don’t want to do, trying to make things work in the bloodsucking world and in the race where we just run without winning or questioning, I believe,
“You are lucky if you still bleed.”
Time has been cruel lately.
Always running out, always leading, I’m always running short of it. I can count days to events on my fingertips and I see calenders turning red with the crosses. I can see days planned as far as a few months in the future and I just know I’ll be running short of time for them too.
I see myself struggling to cope up with the running clock and I know I’ll still be here, sitting on this chair trying to figure out yet another way to do something that was supposed to be done in months to be done in days, or thinking if removing the clock batteries would actually work?
The problem here is not that I did not work over the months, the problem will be I had too much on my plate in the months to focus on doing something that was far off in the future.
I’ve been listening to music lately, trying to figure out why people recommend listening to music to increase concentration, trying to increase my efficiency, what makes it worth listening to and why I should avoid everything else. Well, people lied to me. Music is just another distraction. I tried music without lyrics, I tried EDM, I tried Chinese music, Bollywood, rock bands, well, nothing works.
A few things did change over the months though, life started getting sorted out, things started getting in control, not because of music, it just happened. You know, now I feel like this is my life and I am living it the way I want, there are no challenges that could probably suck the ‘life’ out of me, and to be honest, it sucks.
It almost feels like a corporate office.
To make myself feel good about it, I do take pictures of the happy moments. I do upload them on social media and I love to get those hearts popping up in my notification bar. But then again, I’m sitting on this chair wondering if I actually need those? The ‘heart shape’… umm… is just a wom… there are some weird origins to the shape, okay?
We all are just trying to fit in I guess, with broad smiles and deep caption on the Instagram and Facebook images. Or buy watching recommended TV series and even though you hate it, you try to like it, just because you want to talk about it with your friends. Or by using different spellings and emojis just to act cool.
Sometimes, I just wish I was as happy inside, as I pretend to be.