The Girl Who Planned To Try.

Dear Zonk,

It’s been a depressing sort of week. 4 days of being sick and 3 days of dragging my rebelling brain and body to work and today, a day of working from home. And diarrhoea. Again. Not to mention a host of real and imagined aches and pains.

It’s back, you know. My faithful yearly spell of looking back and looking down and failing to look ahead. I’m beginning to suspect, though, that once a year is way too less. I’m losing it, Zonk. I’m losing the urgency and the Great Discontent. And every way I look at it, I have only myself to blame.

I have of course, made plans. To drag myself out of this bleak mess and make something out of it all. To make anything at all. But then again, as I’ve proved to both myself and you: Planning is easy. Doing is not. And I have a flair for failing at that.

I will be dead someday, Zonk. And you will remember me as The Girl Who Planned To Try.

Ugh.

Love always,
K.

 

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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