The write post

I’ve been idly skimming through my posts. The posts since ‘I wrot lyk dis’. Over time, a consistent theme that emerged in my writings is that I always write longingly about my past but never really about it. I mean, yeah there is some stuff in there that precisely reflected my disposition at that moment, but never really about the actual things that made me sad or elated. Never really about those things that shaped me.

And that I’m obsessed with ‘callbacks’. Since even before I knew the word for it!

And when I read some blog posts, which seem extremely ludicrous and pointless on the onset, I realize how sad or happy I was when I wrote it.

And now and then, in a moment of random and absolutely unnecessary introspection, I write about what I wrote.

Sigh.

Nope. Not for this one.

Why do I have to add a title every time I make a blog post? Some thoughts are just thoughts. Abstract and no relevance whatsoever to attribute a title to. If I need to think of a title for my every thought, I’d not have enough space to think the actual thoughts in the first place.

I digress.

I have been sitting in this dimly lit room for I don’t know how long, working the day away. It’s been that day. You know, that day, when you’re just on a workathon, dressed like shit, eating shit, feeling like shit and just existing in the absolute sanctum of shit.

I didn’t know this is what they meant when said being a grownup is shitty. No kidding. This shit is existential.

Alright, you see what I was talking about earlier though, right? Now I’ve got to think of a title for this shit post.