Thursday, October 13, 2011

When Life is a Reality Show

I just spent an entire day in bed. It wasn’t just lack of good health, though that was the main reason. It was also to quite an extent a lack of will. I’m not sure why. I think I had nothing to look forward to in the day, till evening. So it somehow never occurred to me to actually get out of bed till evening. Don’t ask me why, even if your mouth just fell open, that’s just how it was.

Except, when evening came, I realized what I’d been looking forward to wasn’t happening after all.
And then it hit me.
Harder than the crazy freak lightening outside my window.
I just wasted my entire day.
And I will never get it back.

I got out of bed, still in a bit of shock, and headed straight to the shower. I needed it. I needed to clear out the sudden avalanche of thoughts that had hit me when I was least expecting them.  And in those fifteen minutes in the shower, I went through a quick recap of life, just the way it is.

I am twenty four years old, and don’t necessarily have a lot to show for it.
I am anti social, to say the least, at the most important of times.
I currently live a life hidden from most people
I’m currently not in love with my job, circumstantial as that may be, and suddenly treat it as something I have to do, to get that sum of money that pays the rent at the end of the month. Because you see, one day eventually, I’ll be a writer, and I’ll sit somewhere on a beach or in the mountains writing my next novel, being at home, naturally decently rich, and just enjoying the company of my family.

Reality check. I have a job that is nowhere close to me one day being a writer. I’m not even trained to be a writer. I don’t even write that well, and the term is simply a self proclamation. I have one blog which I killed, one blog that is struggling to live, and one blog that will never see the light of day under my name.

Don’t get me wrong, I am wonderfully happy right now. But because of something completely different. In fact, I am so happy, that it overshadows any circumstantial crap that happens, a job not going well, a blog not being followed, a story never told. There is no self pity. Because right now, I consider myself luckier than I’ve ever been in my life, happier than I’ve ever been in my life, with a clear thought of one thing that I know for a fact I’ll devote my life to, if allowed.

There is no self pity. But I think perhaps I’ve forgotten to care about some aspects of my life. Or maybe worse, I’ve actually gone a stage beyond self pity, and into a land where I’ve just learnt to ignore them altogether. Because you see, one day I’ll be a writer, with the love of my life, and it just won’t matter anymore that I didn’t manage to finish my project on time and got my first bad rating.

Maybe I need to get back to reality.
Maybe I need to get out of bed.
And do something.

P.S. The evening plan is finally happening after all, and I can't stop smiling. But, either way, I’m glad I got out of bed. Before I get into some real trouble. Like get thrown out of that thing that pays the rent at the end of the month.

P.P.S. I just realised I called this blog Life Unlimited, and I spent my whole day in bed. Now I'm just plain ashamed.


  1. Wow, this is the third most depressing thing I've seen in the last half an hour. :-|

  2. It sums up my life and my thoughts and my sudden panic attacks of realization EXACTLY. Exactly = precisely every word. That exactly. Right down to the writer fantasy. It's depressing when they hit you, these pangs of realization.

  3. And may you not have another one for the next few weeks. Amen.

  4. @ Jayant - What were the first two depressing things???

    @ Amiya - I hope so too. Don't think I can deal with it. Again.


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