And so it begins again.
Okay. Haven’t done this in 75 years.
If my future self is reading this, then we are in the year of the most fuck you’s ever uttered collectively by the human race.
Top most thoughts that must be addressed -
Why are we entitled for only two days a week to relax without guilt? We spend the entire five days, waiting, waiting on the toes for Friday evening. And next, live in a constant shower of Monday blues. Because it’s almost there, just two days later. What a criminal waste of emotions to deal with.
It’s 2020. We have advanced in technology. Youtube can now play music with its app closed. That is a huge improvement. But do we really have everything? No. Why am I deal with my emotions philosophically. Ek pill bana bhi lo na to dissolve post break- up hurt wala feelings.
Should I paint? Should I read a book? Okay. Paint. Wait, do I have paints? Do I have brushes? Shall I buy new brushes? New paints? Okay. Amazon. Wait, I need an easel too. Oh wait. When did we last buy groceries? I need cake. Wait, I still have that pending work to do. But, its weekend. But, if I finish now then Monday won’t seem stressful. So? Stress on the weekend? Mondays are meant to be stressful. Why. WHY is Monday meant to be stressful? WHO allocated Monday to be the day to deserve all the stress? WHO allocated WHOM to allocate Monday to be the da.. Should I buy a new game? I haven’t finished the one I bought 6 months ago. Where is my dog? I need some attention. Do I have ADHD?
Lockdown is supposed to be some sort of blessing no? Or, so we thought no? At least I won’t feel guilty about not having enough fun like the rest of Instagram no? But no. How is everyone suddenly in goa? In the middle of a fking pandemic.
Let’s talk more about the break- up? No? Okay.
I realized how much I missed this. Putting my thoughts to words.
I’m currently reading Flowers for Algernon. Yes, I want my feelings to get more fucked up.
I painted a Buddha this week.
Yes, in order to find inner peace.
Yes, my next painting is of Master Shifu.
Yes, I’m in a constant conversation with myself.
No, the Buddha doesn’t look peaceful at all; he looks like he just got back from a rave party.
I mean, you’d think after 4ish years that the quality of writing would have improved. But, same. Or worsen. Who knows. Four people read this blog I suppose.
If someone can explain to me why everyone I know is getting married, I’d really appreciate it.
The entire human race must be thankful to the universe for giving us Hozier. His voice is a literal transformation of vanilla ice cream plus chocolate brownie dipped in hot chocolate sauce with a cherry on top. Death by chocolate. I just described death by chocolate. Hozier will be the death of me.
Also, anxiety is back in my life. Series of mini irrational heart-attacks, you are overstaying your welcome. I had minor anxiety episodes when I first started working. New job anxiety is a thing apparently. Friends and the internet assured me that it is completely normal. But, shit has now hit the table fan, and, it almost makes me want to quit my job and sleep till evening. Yeah.
All this self-diagnosis will fuck us up even more. Good luck world.
If my future self is reading this, then we are in the year of the most fuck you’s ever uttered collectively by the human race.
Top most thoughts that must be addressed -
Why are we entitled for only two days a week to relax without guilt? We spend the entire five days, waiting, waiting on the toes for Friday evening. And next, live in a constant shower of Monday blues. Because it’s almost there, just two days later. What a criminal waste of emotions to deal with.
It’s 2020. We have advanced in technology. Youtube can now play music with its app closed. That is a huge improvement. But do we really have everything? No. Why am I deal with my emotions philosophically. Ek pill bana bhi lo na to dissolve post break- up hurt wala feelings.
Should I paint? Should I read a book? Okay. Paint. Wait, do I have paints? Do I have brushes? Shall I buy new brushes? New paints? Okay. Amazon. Wait, I need an easel too. Oh wait. When did we last buy groceries? I need cake. Wait, I still have that pending work to do. But, its weekend. But, if I finish now then Monday won’t seem stressful. So? Stress on the weekend? Mondays are meant to be stressful. Why. WHY is Monday meant to be stressful? WHO allocated Monday to be the day to deserve all the stress? WHO allocated WHOM to allocate Monday to be the da.. Should I buy a new game? I haven’t finished the one I bought 6 months ago. Where is my dog? I need some attention. Do I have ADHD?
Lockdown is supposed to be some sort of blessing no? Or, so we thought no? At least I won’t feel guilty about not having enough fun like the rest of Instagram no? But no. How is everyone suddenly in goa? In the middle of a fking pandemic.
Let’s talk more about the break- up? No? Okay.
I realized how much I missed this. Putting my thoughts to words.
I’m currently reading Flowers for Algernon. Yes, I want my feelings to get more fucked up.
I painted a Buddha this week.
Yes, in order to find inner peace.
Yes, my next painting is of Master Shifu.
Yes, I’m in a constant conversation with myself.
No, the Buddha doesn’t look peaceful at all; he looks like he just got back from a rave party.
I mean, you’d think after 4ish years that the quality of writing would have improved. But, same. Or worsen. Who knows. Four people read this blog I suppose.
If someone can explain to me why everyone I know is getting married, I’d really appreciate it.
The entire human race must be thankful to the universe for giving us Hozier. His voice is a literal transformation of vanilla ice cream plus chocolate brownie dipped in hot chocolate sauce with a cherry on top. Death by chocolate. I just described death by chocolate. Hozier will be the death of me.
Also, anxiety is back in my life. Series of mini irrational heart-attacks, you are overstaying your welcome. I had minor anxiety episodes when I first started working. New job anxiety is a thing apparently. Friends and the internet assured me that it is completely normal. But, shit has now hit the table fan, and, it almost makes me want to quit my job and sleep till evening. Yeah.
All this self-diagnosis will fuck us up even more. Good luck world.
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