When you have many topics in mind but nothing materialises properly
writing becomes a tough task. Whole day you spend writing lines after lines in
your head and when you come back home and finally sit to jot it all down you
feel totally lost. Not a very good feeling. It’s a bad kind of writer’s block. Since
I always travel to and fro from being alright to empty in matter of seconds
writer’s block is a usual phenomenon to me. I hardly take it seriously anymore.
Last week I couldn’t post anything here. I was away. Out of
station. I had a trip down south. No no, I did not travel to the underworld,
but I can tell you the experience was somewhat similar. This is the first trip since I started my blog which will not turn into any travelogue. Not even a single line. Over the years I have
learned one thing. Never define any event in your past as a ‘worst’ one. Oh the
worst year of my life! Or, that was the worst birthday ever. Or, that was the
worst relationship I have ever had. Don’t dare the universe. Label something as
worst and the universe will quietly accept it as a challenge to exceed itself
and screw you so royally in the next moment you would be left with a
whatthefuck expression on your face. So no, dear universe, dear gods, and my
dear readers, it was neither my worst trip nor the worst time of my life.
But it was not so good either. And some bad experiences are
like bad peanuts. They leave such a rotten taste in your mouth that you are left with a grimace on your face. My cheery optimism has waned over
the past few years. The vacuum has got filled with more anxiety attacks and
paranoia. And yet the stubborn bit of old habit often pokes its head from time
and again. And thank god it does. Then I sit up straight and try to search
frantically for gold in the pile of shit. Last week has torn my nerves apart and yet given me plenty of
materials to write. I have told this before and I am telling again. It always
boils down to my words and I. See? Every cloud has a silver lining after all.
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