Sunny smoke.

 It was hard to wake up today. I still did though. At 8 something a.m. Problem was, the headache from last night that i thought sleep would kill, persisted. It's still here. Brain fog and forehead ache. 

Ive had a cup of coffee and tea each, but here i am. Unfocused, nerves tightly wound and painful. 

Cherry on top is that there's construction going on in the house next to us and a concert right next to it. The music isn't that bad but it's in my mental space. Constantly. Even the sound of cars passing by is irritating me. I have tons to study. Panadol hasn't worked. UGH.

Oh and of course. The sneezing. Its the smog.

Yes, i'm going to lie down for a bit. Let's see. 

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Just finished watching The bridges of madison county.  For the first time. How did i miss this? What a joy. How it makes your heart move. Maza aa gya. 

Me and A recently ordered a new vacuum and an air purifier. We expect delivery today. He texted me from work saying he'd told everyone about how he had gotten an air purifier and it made him feel very modern. I told him i knew he'd do that. And is it odd that it made me be more in love with him. Our matching enthusiasm for new domestic appliances. His more for the air purifier and mine for the vacuum.  

There's something peaceful about our little home. A joyful alignment of cores. A little dance of elasticity. A dash of stress. Abundant ease. 

As we descend deeper into winter, and the world gets quieter, it gives us a chance to listen to what we usually miss in the loud commotion of summer. What makes our hearts beat fuller? What warms us on cold winter mornings? Pay attention to the silent and the subtle, for therein lies the truth. 

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Something odd is happening to me. My thoughts turn into poetry at night, my mind a forest of poems and dreams. I hit the sweet spot right before the curtain falls. And so there are three unfinished poems in my Notes and heart. One of them is called Homecoming, which is something i really want to talk about. But lets see.

I want to prove myself to myself. That's the real test, but i'm not sure i'm the fairest judge. I'm not sure if the test is fair even. All i know is i have to do well. To put an end to the rubbish nonsense shit i give myself for coming short every time. 

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I've been called weak, sensitive and emotional consistently, all my life. But at least my heart is soft. Its soft with love. Its heavy with tears. It shakes with worry, threatening to overflow at the slightest touch. But At least its not hard. And it's not bitter. And I thankGod that it isn't so. It's a privilege I don't take lightly. 

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My dad made dad jokes with me over the weekend. Made my day.

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We went up north last month. The was a giant mountain right outside our room. I named it Candy. I miss candy. I want to write more about that trip, but i need beautiful words for that. I'll wait for them to come. Then maybe. 

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