The fan’s turning slowly and slowly. I have been trying to rest for some time now, but my uncomfort gets the best of me. Maybe writing will do me a world of betterment, much more than resting has, or rather trying to rest has.
The annoying parts of my brain, that scream and shriek, and make an abundance of noise to be heard, get under my skin. My body quivers, i know not out of anger, or out of chill. Can’t be chill, it’s still hot in these parts of the world. Oh and these parts of the world. A million people parade to herald the returning mem saab. Glory.
I miss my guitar. I loved playing it. I am not good, or well not that good. But i still loved playing it. It was a form of expression. It was a form of release of tension inside. It was a substantially effective method of subdueing those voices i just mentioned.
I shouldn’t feel anything. Otherwise everything just creeps in. I let go of my more sanital strands and shreds of thought and rationality. And i just blabber out whatever comes through from the mind. Not healthy ofcourse. I need a better outlet than that. I am after all young, so, energy is there within in me. ‘Garmi hay meray aander’. Listening to songs is better too at times. But I am a bottleneck right now. I wouldn’t know what to listen to.
If i could just get away, from everything, including myself. Go on a beach, for some time, away from society, away from it’s requirements and burdens. Away from the force of sanity upon me. It might do me good. I might come back more light hearted. Blue sands in my toes. That would be nice.