Din me kambal, raat me dumbbell
Saturday, May 30, 2026This is the laziest I've been with writing, in a long time. On my 19th anniversary here, I could take the space and dedicate the pitfalls of AI and co-relate to my writing but that'd be unfair; I don't discriminate and I'm equally lazy with other things including optimising workflows.
Writing just doesn't feature. Which is sad and beautiful.
Beautiful because writing is a form of mental illness, maybe I am healing. My hardcopy journal that I carry along wherever I go will say otherwise. Sad because I have lost any and all discipline to life. I should ideally force myself to read and write one page every day. Maybe I'll do when I quit my job and be unemployed.
Do I want to be unemployed? No, I am ovulating and I thrive when I work. I hustle hard and I don't hesitate in going the extra mile. I am tooting my own horn but it's my page and not a talent council meeting where people will decide my worth. This year I'm told I'm soft and I've started listening; they couldn't capture the checked out, they took my silence for change. Cute.
Maybe I am silent. I've not said much here. Tonight, at 3:05 AM I've forced myself to write. To acknowledge that I don't feel the dark cloud I felt the last three years. 2023-2025 were tough, I was a person who I liked and disliked in equal measure. I am not sure if I like the version I am today but I definitely don't hate her. That's a change, a promising change.
It hurts that when I think of sentences, I mockingly think through how GPT or Gemini would frame. Maybe this is the real crises. Maybe doomscrolling has brought me to a point where I cannot impress anyone, not even myself.
I am not being hard on myself. Contrary to popular belief, I've been fucking soft on myself. A little too soft. I am finally understanding the balance to strike, not that I've done it, but trying to be there has been interesting.
Things have changed in the last 19 years. I would celebrate this day and now I barely even write. Is it that it was talked about and performative and now that I don't surround myself with new people. I don't feel it a reason enough to talk about things?
There's not a lot of new experiences left, in the circumstances life has allowed for me to explore. Sure, a photo-booth at work for new professional headshots is good but can it really compare to brining an air fryer and marinated herbed potatoes for fried wedges? I think not. I feel all cool things have happened and I'm in a downward slope.
Strangely, I've never been more optimistic about mediocrity than I am today. I enjoy giving 4 stars to average films on Letterboxd and then don't understand when a film averages 4.2 that what was so 4.2 about that?
Weirdly, the passion I felt for writing changed and transformed into passion for walking. It doesn't come easy and I lose my breath but god I enjoy the sights and smells in a 2.4 km trail at Lodhi Garden. It's the only thing that kept me sane last year. Delhi has been getting harder to live in with each month and the surprises it brings so I haven't been there in a while but I wish I could incorporate that in my day to day this year the way I did it last year.
Flexibility, comfort, convenience are all things of past at work and increasingly I feel choked at work, like I have no agency and whatever is left is sucked out of my veins on a daily basis. Taking everything from a person except their agency.
But, I can't complain. This is the most at peace I've been this year; most accepting I've been of whatever I've been dealt with in a while. Could it be better? Yes. Could I be better? Fuck yeah. I'd like to be better.
I want to commit back to this page and my writing but I'm in my slut situationship era and the only thing I am actively doing is shooting reels with little or no planning or thought and just having fun; raw, rugged and doing for the sake of doing. The way I once was handling this page.
I don't think I'll stick to doing videos for 19 years but it's surely fun to imagine- what if?
This page will always be special to me. You, dear reader, may not hold the same place but the fact that I can come back to something I've made my own is a fact that nobody can change, not even my lack of motivation to do something better with my life.
If you're here still, thank you for staying with me. If you're new here, I'm sorry- why even? If you're gone, I wish you never showed up.
Next year this page will be 20, officlally not a teen, but a grown adult page. I will be 36, officially past my mid-30s. It'll be a huge shift, hopefully I'll talk about better things than my ex and shitty job in that part of my life.
Here's to turning old together.
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