An epitome.

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Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind
Wanting to start again 

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards
One blow from caving in

Do you ever feel already buried deep
Six feet under scream
But no one seems to hear a thing

Sounds familiar? That pretty much sums up how i was feeling  these past three months ever since thirteenth dec. I’m not sure how i even managed to get through this tricky and arduous period. I wake up every morning counting down to the number of weeks and days that i have left, going through in my mind the seemingly never-ending heap of chapters that i have to go through still, working the math the number of hours i can grudgingly spare myself for sleep, There you go, my almost non-existent life.

Yes. This preparation process has been a mad roller coaster ride, I was cranky from the whatever little hours of little sleep i was getting and i snapped at anyone who unfortunately and unknowingly got into my way and seriously, i think i’ve aged ten years going through this entire period, Oops, there i go again. Do pardon me.

Then again, where do i stand now when all of this is over? Honestly speaking, I’m feeling just a teeny weeny bit fearful of going through the entire process again for i know that it will get more intense and fast-paced and that this whatever short few weeks that i have now to myself is just a temporary transient phase. My heart palpitates and i wonder just how much such cycles i can manage, yet again and again.

Just for now, i think i shall free myself from all these inner struggles for be it self-anxiety or not, or even the worry wart that i am, it comes, still, like a whirlwind, sucking you into the eddies and the torrent.

And there i go, drifting like a plastic bag, waiting for the next upheaval.


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