It's been very long since I have written an actual blog and I cannot say, I was busy. I got hell lot of time and nothing to write. 11 months of nothingness and I feel like every artistic element inside me has been earthed. I used to struggle with anxiety so much during college time and I used to feel everything all at once. My mind was so loud that I wanted it to shut up. I had to deliberately control my thoughts. It was chaos. I wanted to sing, dance, paint, write screenplays, poetry, watch as many films as possible in a life time...
When I started working, things started falling back into places. I had a routine and I liked following routines or at least I believed so. I believed I would be the happiest just by lying on a bed inside a dim lit room listening to lofi songs forever. Turns out, everything I believed about me was wrong. I hate monotonous life, so meticulously lived, and I have developed deep rooted craving to travel. But, I realize it is not easy as it was before. 11 months passed by and I didn't feel a thing. I did not make one single art I am proud of. I stopped writing completely. It felt like a fog, which is sulking and covering my entire life. I was not unhappy of any sorts, but I was also never completely happy.
What is this paradox?
