I haven’t written for a while. Well I have, but I haven’t written about things that matter. I haven’t felt the urge to type out a slew of words and see all the tangled up emotions within me come to life on a white background through black font. And while there may have been a time where I wanted to feel like this – this blissful emptiness in my head (or so I thought it would feel blissful) – right now it just feels….empty.
And now…now I try and scrounge up something worth writing about. Something that would stir those emotions again. Something, anything. I try and scratch the surface of the thoughts in my head and come up with nothing. Nothing worthwhile, at least.
There is a lot there, trust me. Studies, work, family, friends, faith, obligations and so many others, and a whole lot of uncertainty. But even that uncertainty is not worth writing about. Probably because like with everything else, I’ve also become used to it being there. I’ve accepted that happiness, sadness, pain, confusion, betrayal will all come and go in turns and I will come out of it all completely fine, and perhaps a bit more mature, a bit more wise. And I think I’ve come to anticipate these turns in life. And isn’t that exactly what we were striving to become?
All those years in school and coachings and classes where the emotions and the drama were at their peaks. Where everything felt monumentous – like the tiniest tip of the scale on either side would bring about the apocalypse. I remember times when the smallest of conversations or the smallest of indications that something was off, led to hours upon hours of overanalysis and phone calls upon phone calls, trying to dissect what had happened. And then it would all turn out to be nothing and everyone would just forget about it and look towards the next upheaval.
And I remember that over the past few years, during this transition from being on an emotional roller coaster to becoming an objective spectator to all the happenings in my own life, I kept looking back at those situations and our over the top reactions to those. And then I would laugh at myself for being such a drama queen. And this improved me is definitely, infinitely better than that, I know.
But I wonder. Is this lack of emotions really better, if it takes away my reason to write?
Wandering Minds 
This is really a fascinating piece of writing. We are all striving to become someone we never wanted by following the social dogma abstractedly . Growing mature eventually concretes our emotions and conceals the one who we used to be few years back. Those does not mean that we a void of emotions . Its a floating phenomenon ,part of it. When times are good, it’s the reason why we grin. This is also the one that succumb us to despair.
Back then in old days even the trifle episode of our life felt significant . With time ,it erodes . I think it all we need to experience to grow and flourish as a human . The grown one who can emphasis on what really have a meaningful existence and set aside what does not,is the one we should strive for. Having emotion is kind a bliss .
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Glad to see that my words resonate with someone. I don’t think anymore that we’re exactly striving to become someone we don’t want to, rather I guess it is an inevitable process of maturing and transforming into people who are able to survive in this world whichever way allows them to survive. And I guess I was mostly lamenting the fact that this process of maturing has had significant effects on my ability to write and express myself, as those emotions seem to have become largely muted over time as I have grown.
Also, sorry about the super late reply to your comment. I’ve been having trouble logging in to the blog.
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