Deadlines in My Head

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Every second I am out of it. I feel like I am running out of time. That cliched image of me clinching sand as it slides past my palm paints the canvas in my head. I have created these little deadlines unknowingly, and I have started believing in them, that if I don’t hold myself true to what I believe, I don’t know what might happen.

It’s like one fine day I ended up becoming conscious of my limited time in the world. I became conscious of the fact that if I don’t make all my dreams come true in my fixed slot, I might end up feeling sorry for leading a torpid life. Every second I waste makes me feel time spent doing something not fruitful. A day bygone in self-pity seems like a day wasted.

I am constantly running. My feet are all scathed. I am charging through my blisters through all that pain, and yet the thought of stopping to rest, to relax, seems like a wasted breath. There are so many things to do, so many dreams to carve, so many shots to take and so many trials to experience, but every inch I move, I inch closer to something volatile. I can’t seem to hit anything solid. It’s as if the whole universe is plotting against me, testing me, my unwavering patience to simmer me in its deadpan humour.

Then at times I feel terribly drained out. Knackered. I don’t want to do anything but sit amongst my thoughts. Watch sitcoms, eat a pizza, sleep, get fat. That’s when a passed deadline would look right back at me; it would rue me with eyes of guilt forcing me to feel ashamed of myself. I would feel slumped in my race to beat time. I would feel horrible then as if a day had just ended up swallowing me, and that I had failed miserably to churn out a planned thing.

I guess it is okay to miss on it. It’s okay to give yourself the luxury of taking it easy.

I remind myself every day:

It’s not the end of the world. You can stop to check those blisters every once in a while. Deadlines procrastinate. Just stop and breathe. It’s okay to not do anything. Sometimes a day doesn’t have to be your day.

That’s when I stop and wallow in my indolence. I let go. Then……..I live.

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