Monday, February 29, 2016

Of Random Thoughts and Extra Days

Last day of February. Every four years, we get an extra day. And it made me realize how most times, one day can make such a difference in someone's life. Like, this thing on TV, how someone suddenly died today (it was all over the news). And it reminded me, once again, how dangerously fleeting and short life can be. It's morbid and creepy, I know, but sometimes it takes a hard nudge like that to teach us not to take our time for granted. To make each moment count and not settle on regrets.


Sometimes, the existence of something unusual (like today) magnifies everything around us, intensifies everything in it -- every happening,  every thought, every emotion... and just like that, you're a mess.

And right now, everything is making me melancholic as crazy. Everything:
...like how I am listening to Adele's 25 right not (specifically "When We Were Young" and "All I Ask") which are pretty sad and nostalgic, but comforting all the same. 
...like how I started my day hating the world and everything I am going through at the moment to the point where I took the first half of the day off because I just don't really feel like functioning at the moment
...like how I was given an extra day today (after four freakin' years) and I spent half of it lying in bed like a useless log and the other half shamelessly faking it. 
...like how I realized how so much has passed and so much has happened for the last four years and I am not sure if I came out a better person or worse. 
...like how I realized that maybe four years is not really a very long time even if right now it feels like forever. 
...like how I think that sometimes I am just holding on to feelings long lost maybe because it is better than to just feel outright empty. 
...and how I am in the mood for Murakami novels these days and that means that, most likely,  something is wrong.
But really I just feel like uselessly wasting good ink tonight and maybe I just can't understand my head at the moment but I know it's better to be an incomprehensible mess in paper than to let these things rot and disappear, be swallowed by darkness -- like how some things just disappear but you know deep in your bones that they didn't really go away.

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