Random Musings

I don’t know what to write. It’s a huge crisis for me. And I’m not even writing for a school exam/project. A crisis in the sense that I am not writing down any of my strange, unique, and possibly precious thoughts.

Exaggeration aside, I am letting ideas pass without taking a moment to value their worth, let alone make any effort to bring them to fruition. I’m letting the river of thoughts flow into a sea of oblivion without utilizing it by storing some of it through productive means in safe places like in some creation or in someone’s mind, where they may reside as memories. I would have included telepathy as a means to communicate and share thoughts too, but it unsurprisingly never works for me. Perhaps some more years of collective psychological advancement of the human race will bring telepathy close to being a real possibility, but as of now the only way to exploit my river of thoughts is to write. I would have chosen talking for sharing my mind’s opinions, ideas and feelings, but I find a sheet of paper far more patient.

Right now writing seems the only way to quickly cure this feeling of emptiness that comes when futile effort and passionless hard work yields no satisfaction, or restlessness and lack of productivity make me conscious of the silent wastage of time.

My mind is flooded with so many ideas, so many beautiful fancies–of some distant future, or some forgotten past–, so many feelings that demand the opportunity to get expressed…and so many jokes that nobody laughs at.

There are constellations of words floating in my mental consciousness but I am yet to identify or understand the sentences that they form. The circle of my life goes on, but I am yet to recognize its significance in the larger scheme of things.

The puzzle of life; you don't know what it really is until you're close to completing it
Image credits: Morguefile.in

My mind is a strange place, and a strange master. Its weather can be calm in the most turbulent of times or make me panic during the lightest drizzle of problems and challenges. It has premonitions of my greatest of ruins, right when things seem more or less near perfection. It makes me worry almost endlessly even as a little unacknowledged feeling called hope says things will turn out fine.

Sometimes I control my mind; sometimes it does awful things to me. It makes me slip into an abyss of regret for the stupidest reasons, and sometimes even stops me from celebrating success, however big it might be.

My thoughts and emotions almost conspire to tangle me into confusion and lead me astray into unknown roads, almost blinded by my unfounded fears and cynical views of the world.

I often end up somewhere much better than where I was earlier. I thank the little leap of faith and those few sudden moments of bravery that took me forward, and brought me to where I stand. In this case, with so much written when just a while ago I was complaining about being unable to write.

Don’t worry if you don’t understand much of this. I don’t either. And even if I did, I would still find myself lost among nebulae of wreckage and black holes of flaws that are part of this mysterious space of consciousness you call ‘Yashraj Talan’.