Blur

Meaning: something vaguely or indistinctly perceived

Yesterday, while I was trying to sleep (which happens a lot these days, without any clear reason) – I was contemplating, or doing something of that sort. As I was thinking, it became very clear to me that this life (right now) is not very clear to me. I don’t know what I’m doing for the most part of my life – although, I know that I’m tending to sleep more during the day, find random tasks from my internship to do, learn data structures, read my current book – and yet, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

This is because of my past. It haunts me every night. All the mistakes I have done so far and how regretting them is an on-going part of my life. Good to know that it’s normal for humans to commit mistakes, otherwise, I don’t know how we’d survive at all. The solutions to these regrets, however, are a blurry set of images that never seem to reveal what they truly mean.

Say, for example, if meditation is one of the solutions. I know that meditation will bring me a happier life. But, what if I don’t know what to expect from a happier life? Maybe I am just overthinking right now, but don’t you ever feel like an imperfect piece in this puzzle called life? Tell me, do you?

I end these thoughts with a blurry dream – which brings me sleep. And, all I care about – as you could guess – is a good night’s sleep.

Cut me in two, I’ll remain one

Oh Chris, do you make me believe?

Checking on myself, I think of the wonderful miracles having come off, the ones happening. And, hope for the ones to be in future. I remember telling the difference in dreaming and expecting.

Time knows a lot about uncertainty. Yet, I find myself speaking to the void of hopeful seconds to speak back. It is only because, of this void, I expect nothing from. It is a void knowing what it knows. It is time, understanding itself.

Anxiety got me nowhere. And, nowhere is the perfect place to start again. Looping myself of this void and anxiety, it is mostly the smile on my plants that find themselves giving me the answers. The shady clouds reminding me of the beauty in imperfection. Currents high and low letting the waves be. For it is, perfect as it remains.

Oh Martin, you make me believe!