Got caught up with work, life and laziness.
A friend came over, and in the middle of all our random chatter, he hit me with
"So what do you do beside work and getting stressed about it??"
I used to write.
“Oh, that’s great! Why don’t you anymore?” he asked.
I didn’t really have an answer
The only time words failed me,
The answer maybe is!!!!
that Life happened.
Got caught up with work, deadlines, life and laziness.
Somewhere between deadlines, meetings, and “I’ll do it tomorrow,” I just… stopped.
Got caught up with work, routines, and a quiet kind of laziness.
Not the dramatic, messy kind — just the soft, creeping one that makes you think you’ll get back to things someday.
And then suddenly, “someday” is years later.
It took me 5 freaking years to get myself to it again today
It’s strange, isn’t it? How the things that once defined you slip away quietly,
and you only notice their absence when someone randomly asks about them.
I don’t think I stopped writing because I didn’t want to anymore.
I think I just forgot what it felt like —
to sit with my thoughts long enough to turn them into words.
To pour little pieces of myself into sentences that maybe no one would ever read, but still felt like mine.
So yeah… this is me trying again.
Not with an agenda, not with a schedule, not to prove anything —
just to reconnect with that version of me that loved words a little too much.
Because maybe, the best part about growing up isn’t finding new things —
it’s finding your way back to the ones that always belonged to you.
With love,
Isha (&chatgpt)

Surely, the best part about today is reading this. With love, dear author
ReplyDeleteMade my day❤️
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