The Wind that Wanders

To wander is to be alive.

There and back again.

There is a pile of deadlines waiting to be met; and here is my procrastinating self in the dire need of creative self-expression and catharsis thereof.

The fact that I recognize these patterns is a sign that I should steer clear of pen and paper and keyboard, yet here I am sitting in front of the computer trying to recollect why I shouldn’t control my urges.

Let’s not kid ourselves, we procrastinators, use this self-expression only as a distraction to not do the actual task at hand. But, let’s also not forget, that this peculiar situation of ours has given birth to the most beautiful pieces we have ever written/art we ever created.

Another reason is- I do have an actual story to write today. It’s not something that I made up; it is something that came seeking me. And I, although reluctantly; welcomed it happily.

Now that I have successfully rationalised my need to procrastinate, let me get to the point.

A few weeks ago N and I were talking about our childhood and the places we lived. The conversation left us wondering where our childhood friends are, and we did find a few online- via her social media.
Fast forward to last Friday, one of my childhood friends, who also happens to be N’s friend on Facebook messages her asking about a photo she had clicked, and slowly the conversation leads to a seemingly innocuous inquiry about my wellbeing; and him casually mentioning that I one of his earliest childhood friends. Before I could intercept her response, N quickly replied to him that I had asked about him too, recently; and I too have happened to mention that we used to be friends. He went ahead and asked if I’m on Facebook( referring by the nickname that only a few are allowed to use)/WhatsApp to which she responded negatively. His curiosity had intrigued me and I told her to give him my Instagram profile. Soon he DM-ed me on Instagram.

Anyway, regardless of my doubts that he may be friends with my college mates whom I have cut all ties with, I went ahead and talked to him. When I reconnected with him, it felt like I was reconnecting with a part of myself that was long lost and forgotten. It was nice to get back a piece of my fragmented memories of my childhood. In the past couple of days, I could recollect a few more things from my childhood. Some of them were so horrible and traumatic that they left me sleepless for a night; reliving the bad memories. But I have to admit, some of them were warm and fond.
I also realise that most of the good has been lost over the years, and the worst kept accumulating. I now have to decide on which one to let go of and which one to hold on to. I am choosing to hold on to the good.There is a pile of deadlines waiting to be met; and here is my procrastinating self in the dire need of creative self-expression and catharsis thereof.
The fact that I recognize these patterns is a sign that I should steer clear of pen and paper and keyboard, yet here I am sitting in front of the computer trying to recollect why I shouldn’t control my urges.

Let’s not kid ourselves, we procrastinators, use this self-expression only as a distraction to not to do the actual task at hand. But, let’s also not forget, that this peculiar situation of ours have given birth to the most beautiful pieces we have ever written/art we ever created.

Another reason being- I do have an actual story to write today. It’s not something that I made up; it is something that came seeking me. And I, although reluctantly; welcomed it happily.
Now that I have successfully rationalised my need to procrastinate, let me get to the point.

A few weeks ago N and I were talking about our childhood and the places we lived. The conversation left us wondering where our childhood friends are, and we did find a few online- via her social media.
Fast forward to last Friday, one of my childhood friends, who also happens to be N’s friend on Facebook messages her asking about a photo she had clicked, and slowly the conversation leads to a seemingly innocuous inquiry about my wellbeing; and him casually mentioning that I one of his earliest childhood friends. Before I could intercept her response, N quickly replied to him that I had asked about him too, recently; and I too have happened to mention that we used to be friends. He went ahead and asked if I’m on Facebook( referring by the nickname that only a few are allowed to use)/WhatsApp to which she responded negative. His curiosity had intrigued me and I told her to give him my Instagram profile. Soon he DM-ed me on Instagram.

Anyway, regardless of my doubts that he may be friends with my college-mates whom I have cut all ties with, I went ahead and talked to him. When I reconnected with him, it felt like I was reconnecting with a part of myself that was long lost and forgotten. It was nice to get back a piece of my fragmented memories of my childhood. In the past couple of days, I could recollect a few more things from my childhood. Some of them were so horrible and traumatic that they left me sleepless for a night; reliving the bad memories. But I have to admit, some of them were really warm and fond.
I also realise that most of the good has been lost over the years, and the worst kept accumulating. I now have to decide on which one to let go of and which one to hold on to.

I am choose the good.

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