My Inescapable Thought Abyss

I wish I could wonder how we got here. But I seem to know exactly how, by one step after the other, on and on and on….. And there’s no whirr of excitement this year, no new books or classmates or teachers for real. Not when they’re talking icons on the screen. I don’t mean to complain, just acknowledge the myriad ways in which we’ve tackled the situation in such an unprecedented time. Last year, just when the academic year had begun, I’d written a blog post called ‘On the Annual Whirr of Excitement.’ But nobody could’ve predicted that this year, there would be no whirr, no after-exam celebrations, no farewells, no new-school first days on campus. Not when we all barely managed to lock ourselves in our houses in the nick of time. And that out electronic devices will be our saviors. But! I just felt the slightest whirr and on came the need to acknowledge it. As I was giving away my 10 th grade books and making space on my shelves which are to be filled with the books for t

Ahhh I feel poetic. It's 12.52 am and I know I've got a class at 6 am but sleep is miles away.  In fact, unexpectedly so, I just felt infinite.  Have you ever wondered why poets find, in nature, poetry? Why they model their works around nature and it's ways? I just felt why. And so I can say I (probably) know.  Of course it's a teenager's opinion but in my view, equally valid.  Well, as it happens, I just looked at the sky only to be fazed by the sight of two tiny specs of light beside the mighty moon itself, supposedly Jupiter and Saturn.  And, here's the answer to that question about poets: It probably is because they're constant, and to some extent, calming to the human mind.  Here's what it means to me: A sheer sense of conscious insignificance against the inevitable consistency of the flow of time.  The presently mundane incapability to reach out to the starts and being limited to only be able to gaze at them and wonder.  That is, how I'd expres