Skip to main content

The Finish Line.

I slept late last night. My legs are tired, and my feet are aching, but I like it. Not the lack of sleep or the sweat on my forehead, but the exhaustion that comes from knowing I worked a little harder.

Sleep takes over easily when you’ve really worked. It’s not a choice; it just happens. A surrender. You wake up and do it all over again. You keep going, even when it’s tough because that’s what you have to do.

Even if you start knowing nothing, you’ll learn. Time will pass, people will remember and forget, and you’ll get better. You have to, right? It seems like you will if you’re consistent, but sometimes it’s hard.

Sometimes, consistency feels like a burden. It can be tiring, and the progress seems slow. It’s tough, but maybe that’s part of it too—the struggle, the moments when you want to stop but don’t.

Sleep is a brief escape. Is it all worth it when it seems so far out of reach? Maybe all of this amounts to something. The fact that I could have reached every step I am taking earlier does come to my mind. But I am here now. 

It takes time, but I am here now. It’s easy to wonder if it could have been different if I had started sooner, if I had known then what I know now. 

Maybe I would have had a different fate, but everything I was running from seems to meet me at the finish line. All I can do is prepare. And go with what comes my way. 

I will let myself walk there without knowing all the answers, uncertain and confused as I am. I move forward because I am uncertain. Because I don't have all the answers.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Is It Casual Now?

There’s a line that sits between us—a hesitation that hangs in the air. Let my silence speak. It’s awkward, yes, but it’s real. Why should I feel bad for you when the hurt is mine to carry? I can see where you’re coming from, but the choice was yours. If the words were empty, why let them out? If you didn’t mean it, why not say so? Just don’t say it at all, or let me know it was never meant to hold weight. But now, I find myself asking—is this what we’ve come to? Has it all become casual, something to brush off like it was nothing? Letting things go because it’s easier than facing the truth?  If that’s the case, then maybe that line I drew wasn’t just a pause. Maybe it was a boundary, a way to protect what’s left of something real. Something that matters. Because once it’s all casual, what’s left but empty gestures and hollow promises?  I wonder if this is how it starts—when words lose their weight and actions feel more like habits than choices. When we start ignoring the smal...
Post a Comment
Read more

Varuthaayi.

"വരാം," ഞാൻ പറയുമ്പോൾ, "പോകാം" എന്ന് പറയാനുള്ള ആ പേടി. My legs prickle like the seeds of a strawberry, and I feel like tearing myself apart today. I keep picking at the wound that heals every two days, only for it to break open again—blood and flesh. I feel trapped in my own skin, my body will never be what I want it to be. There are things I’m supposed to become, but time is slipping away. I applied for many things. I have sent my name into the void—eight, ten, how many more? They have to call me today. If not, I won’t be who I need to be. Tomorrow, I’ll be hopeless again. I can’t hold on to who I am, so how will time hold on to me? I eat the yellow as if it might bring some joy. One piece is thin and crispy, the bite sounds, and I feel it. The next is thick and bland—someone like me must have cut it. One is unexpectedly sweet, even though it isn’t brown like I expected. How it lies to me. I look in the mirror, I look away. Another is too salty. I eat 250 grams of ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Rainy Reflections.

What do I write today? I pondered for hours while doing mundane tasks. The sunlight stayed with me for a while, then it left, all alone, before the tube of electricity joined my thoughts. "Aren't you eating dinner?" asked my roommate. That's when I finally broke the silence I had condemned myself to until I wrote. I ate dinner and drank tea instead of coffee because I wanted to sleep earlier. I came back to my room, determined to write the third blog post. I couldn't give up so soon, could I? The sounds of doors and windows slamming against the walls, screeching laughter, and people running around seeped into my room. "It's cool outside, the rain, it's raining," said my roommate. I am not a huge fan of the rain. It always made me moody. I wasn't a hater either. Something in me whispered back to my roommate, "It's raining? It's raining!" I jumped up barefoot and ran out to feel the cool breeze against my face. My feet felt th...
Post a Comment
Read more