Today, I had trouble opening a bottle of water during a quasi lunch meeting. So I just stood in the conference room, nonchalantly clutching it, feigning disinterest, all the while desperate for the sweet relief of a single liquid drop to permeate my over salinated mouth. I was very sad. And thirsty.
It’s been a tumultuous start to the new year, textured by delightful peaks and profound valleys. I know that’s trite, but there isn’t a more apt description. The first three months have been christened with a brisk cascade of the ‘new’, sprinkled by memorable glimpses of the ‘old’ and underscored by disappointment from the ‘familiar’.
Three months of visceral living is overwhelming. In the past I was numbed by consuming academic and professional workloads, but this year, I’ve been blessed/cursed with the gift of time. Seconds, minutes and hours of indulging in a moment, rendering it almost palpable. How odd. Moments are usually so fleeting, so intangible. You live them as quickly as they end. That’s why they’re precious. I’ve had too many moments to relive. Over-saturation leads to boredom or in my case, disenchantment.
I’m swept off my feet by the sweet, lyrical lamentations from my favorite lovelorn musicians. They strum to the beat of their every heartache and it’s absolutely breath-taking. Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Maybe. I don’t know about that. Some of them are very sad. But so is a lot of world. At least they make provocative music.
Infatuation is so cruel.
Undignified departures are infuriating.
A cryptic post is my catharsis.