Even as I typed the title of the post, I was marveling how deep and true the words I was writing were.
A new year. A new blog. A new way of life. A new me.
Like clockwork, the way it is supposed to be, 365 days come to an end marking a new beginning, a new that is so predictable and yet isn’t. All alone, cooped up by choice I spend the day alone, with nothing but my laptop and a messy room. Wondering not what the new year will bring, but what I will make out of the new year. It is always ever in our hands.
A new blog address. Against much procrastination but the dormant lust for my own domain, I finally went ahead and got my own… www.themisfitgirl.com It seemed apt. I really think of myself as “the Misfit Girl”. I remembered Shruti of Hits and Misses who was the first ever to call me that.
And a new life. A few days of the recent past, I was alive. And to go back from that to the usual mechanical grind, it needs courage. Depression beckons me. And I fight harder. I’ll not let loneliness and melancholia take me over. I am not me for nothing!
But it is odd how time runs so fast when you want it to slow down and how time stretches when you really want it to zoom by. Or is it human fallacy again?
Work is the only solution. After all it was the primary reason. And I want no time to think, no time to let the clog in my throat or the burning in my eyes overwhelm me.
Another new year. Yet another new beginning. And another chance!
Let it be worthwhile. Let it be remembered for all the good nei great things in spite of all that I am without.
P.S. It is only here that I can cry and not be ashamed. For no one knows there are tears albeit dried ones.