A Jumble of Thoughts
February In the parking lot, the fallen leaves flew around in that strangely sad afternoon light with it's detached indifference. I felt tired. Tired of thinking, tired of being myself, tired of the slight heaviness that weighed upon my heart in a constant throbbing ache, tired of how the ache rose up to my throat, tired of how I had absolutely no reason to cry and how I couldn't cry and how I wish I could. The leaves flew around me, with a freedom and abundance I didn't possess. The crows cawed at the dimming of the light as they returned home. I thought of how it was a lovely spring afternoon, or would be, if a cuckoo would sing in that moment. It was spring after all. Here and there in the city the palash and the krishnachuras flamed their defiant reds against the greys. I wanted to participate. I wanted to feel the fire in my heart, not this weary heaviness. I didn't want to be sad. There are things I want to do but I keep freezing, distracting myself, going to b...