walking on sunshine

or platforms, mediums, trajectories, filters

whatever you want to call it, the things that we get through to communicate aptness. these in-between smoke screens that interfere with a lost tense of tangibility. Speaking of, here I go on one my left-field tangents again, not being able to express in simple words what it is that I really want to say due to concerns, worries, perceptions I see filling up my head. Right now the heater is off, my feet are cold and the room looks grey, but there are so many things to be done! so many things to plan! and it's already 4.30 pm. How am I able to live moment to moment when most moments are being suspended in concentration towards something that is a slight resemblance of productivity? I feel like my brain has been on lockdown for so long in escapism and my unwillingness to face reality that it has forgotten how to think or function normally, for all its fundamental uses as per the status of a postgrad student.

I find myself typing in sentences that look like they have been strung together by my fifteen year old self, all prettily across a paper that is DUE TOMORROW.

By the way, to anyone in general and in particular, don't tell me to be honest when I KNOW you cannot handle the truth. Instead of defence, I wish that for once, that your defences rested, and I actually know my little words, whatever little words have sunk in so that history does not repeat itself. Again. I have had to learn the hard way that those little words "I understand, I hear you, I'm sorry" or even a contemplative pause and nod, go a long way, so why shouldn't you?

Maybe I am getting old and the grumpy old granny has been unleashed.