#expresssions

We're all good

It's enough (quantities)

Don't worry about it

It tastes good

That's enough! (angry)

look at this HA

their expressions are like...

Hey, watcha doing?

being...

I’m channeling my very best Luciano Corgarotti this morning.

I write everyday. Be it a short para, but i do. When something strikes with its arrows that go straight to my blood pumping organ, i write. When my life tends to take unwanted turns, i write. When i am so overwhelmed with someone’s gesture, floating in the universe’s enormity, i write. That’s what i do. 

Perhaps it would be wrong to say that pen and paper have been replaced by MS Word but i haven’t been writing regular diary. And on these screens, words, texts, images floating here and there, in the world of the visual reality, i feel lost. Why?

“Why aren’t you on insta?” many of my friends asked. I must have avoided writing this if it were only for a one or two people, but it’s not. I am a writer, a reader first of all. I don’t believe in showing off to the world. And i write, not for others but for myself. But in this world driven by objectivity, i thought of giving a try and created an instagram account. I post my short, very very short lines there. It’s good. Yes. 

But this world, this virtual world suffocates me. You keep on chatting with someone for a long time and in real life, you have nothing to speak about. You make promises you can’t fulfill. You are governed by the status quo (Yes, I am a 1975 fan). There is a difference after all, I’ve realized between words that come out of your mouth and words that your fingers type on the screen. It is easier to click ‘send’ than to let that word inside your heart (or brain, whatever) become a sound. Being an ‘angel’, ‘rockstar’, ‘hero’ on your id’s is not going to make you one, is it?

I’ve been thinking if the world really needs to know what i write or not. As i scroll down my writing folder on the computer screen, reading the titles of my word files, i always feel there’s so much to say, so much to express, so much to write. So many of my writeups are incomplete. Whatever is there on the net isn’t even half of what i write. But i feel a lack of organization, a lack of format. Something that never was a problem when my diaries had all records, when i stayed up on the smell and taste of coffee composing a poem, when the pitter-patter of rain was my companion in the story of the clouds i wrote, when perhaps a boy had a part of my attention and became a subject to a diary entry and when more than the ‘followers’, i was appreciated by real life friends. 

"Better late than never" means "doing something late is better than not doing it".

Example: I'm sorry I'm late to the party. But better late than never, right?