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

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

Where's My Present?

"True consistency isn’t about frequency—it’s about identity. It is about becoming the kind of person who does what needs to be done, no matter what." For a long time, I thought I knew what I wanted. I chased internships, opportunities, and the validation that came with them. These things were within reach, yet the more I pursued them, the more they felt disconnected from who I was.  It wasn’t that they were bad opportunities—they were, by most standards, great ones. And I wouldn't pass them up if I did get them. But they weren’t my purpose, I realize. They didn’t align with the person I wanted to become.  I had let them define so much of what I did, and in that pursuit, I lost sight of the deeper question: What do I actually want? Ironically, chasing them helped me realize that they were never my end goal to begin with.   Yet, the pressure I put on myself was unbearable. The competitiveness I internalized made failure feel worse than death itself. Fear reduced me to ...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Start. Maybe.

January 4th. That’s when I started writing my diary—not the 1st, not when I was supposed to. Already late. Already behind. And that feeling hasn’t left me since.   I keep skipping things I shouldn’t. I sign up for things and never follow through. I tell myself I’ll get it together, but I don’t. Money slips away. Time slips away. I try routines, I set goals, I make plans—nothing sticks.   Every conversation feels like I’m talking to myself. Every piece of work I create is full of I, me, myself. I can’t escape it, and honestly, I’m tired of it.   But here’s the thing: I need to be stronger than I am. I need to get my driver’s license. I need to stop running in circles before I turn 20 and wonder where all this time went.   The diary feels like a sham, but at least I’m still writing, I guess. I had not even written it for a long time. Maybe that’s something.   I want to know that the sun is there even if its not facing me. I want to feel th...
Post a Comment
Read more