I am crazy, if craziness is the seedling of indecisiveness. Or over-optimism in multitasking a 5 year’s worth of effort in the duration of 1 month, only by thinking about it? If I am porcelain in place of wrinkles crack lines would crawl all over me like river tributaries, flowing, seeping, creeping from my skull down to my body. Which, is, maybe, most probably, the reason for my severe case of gastricitis last few nights ago.
What am I looking for? ( It used to be Balqis, or rather, Balqis-ness, but still, I cannot see the point of pursuing that anymore, for nobody’s looking) Which dreams to pursue then? Dreams of late, are only dreams for dream’s sake, no longer an objective. For perfection is the preventor of progress, the purveyor of waiting. Waiting for the right time, waiting for the right climate, right temperature, right person, right predicament. And while waiting, to kill time, useless things are carried out like habit. (which is ominous!)
But subconsciously I know some things do not require wait. Probably all things even. Some things (or all things too) do not require the ‘on your mark-get set-go’ stance before a sprint. Some things you just run with with abandon. Then you only know. You experience the out-of-breath-ness, the pounding of heart, the trickling of sweat. Then you stop, gasp for breath and run again, probably walk the rest of the way, and it becomes a habit.
Some people calls it ‘experience’. And with experience you get purpose.
I marvel at people who, at the tender age of 25 already knows how his life in the next 40 years would turn out, and readily settle down, not for the reason that one is already content with one’s standing, but for sheer confidence that things will fall gracefully in their respective places.
O’ how precarious is the road less followed. Yet how weary am I of standing in line.
How anxious am I to arrive. Damn dreams that make you sleep. Damn habits that kill time. Damn damn damn it.
Shoop pe doo bab bab. Shoop ee doo blab la bab. Oogle oogle oogle.
