Sometimes I wonder what happened to me. I wonder where that fearless, outspoken accidental writer of the past disappeared. I wonder why I don’t write as frequently as before. In fact, if I were honest with myself, I would also acknowledge that I don’t write as honestly as before either. While I am still quite outspoken about things that do not directly concern me (politics and social mores for example), I find myself quite reticent when it comes to things that intimately concern me. I find myself often wondering how my family will react and what they will think about certain things that I write about. I find that this is a fairly recent occurrence. Every time I put words on screen, I find myself wondering if I should publish it. If I do publish it, I find myself wondering what people will think about it.

To be brutally frank, I hate the new me. I hate the fact that I have begun to obsessively look over my shoulder, trying to figure out what people think and what they will say. I am beginning to get restless. This is a restlessness that comes of having too many things to say and no-one to say it to. No. Scratch that. It’s a restlessness that comes of having too many things to say and not knowing how to say it. The mind is so full of things that I am forgetting how it is to let my hair down and have some fun. I am desperately waiting for the old me to resurface. God alone knows how long that’s going to take.


One thought on “Restlessness…

  • January 27, 2014 at 12:03 pm

    It is because of your being a female. A vast Majority of the women are subject to this kind of invisible tyranny of the parents,brothers and in-laws.And even outsiders would like to impose their values and social mores on the girls and women around.In the office set up even the worst type of loafers would not hesitate to say unpleasant things about females working with them posing as if they were the guardian angels of public morality.


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