Chin up.

Dear Zonk,

Things have been looking bleak this week. I’ve tried to put my finger on it and mostly, I’ve failed. Instead I’ve come to terms with the fact that things that sadden me tend to be vague. Which is a blessing, I’m well aware. First world problems are the best kind of problems to have. I’ll take the occasional blues over clinical depression any day, say. Or over terminal illness or crippling anxiety or poverty or living in times of war.

That said and blessings counted, things have been bleak. But I’ve decided that they’ll stop being bleak as of tomorrow. Tonight I’ll continue to clear space on my mac and hopefully, I’ll even get some work done. But tomorrow I get back to business. I pull up my socks. I roll up my sleeves. Tomorrow I go to the gym  (which I just joined, fyi) at 9a.m. sharp. I work on Sam’s Shopify store. I go pet dogs and cats and discuss Life, the Universe and Everything with C and Dayson. I stop eating all these chips and all this chocolate. It’s getting to be too much again, and worse, it seems to trigger a horrible hacking cough. I do 10 minutes of something nice everyday. I make the most of me.

I’ve got to stop letting the things inside my head stop me from getting to the best possible version of things outside my head. Maybe that sentence doesn’t make sense at all. But maybe you’ll get it anyway.

Love always,


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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