People in my friends and family circle have, on multiple occasions, called me out for my randomness. And honestly, they have a point.
Every morning, as we sip on our tea and talk about the most grounded things like, what’s for breakfast, whether we have enough groceries, or if we need anything for the month, I suddenly derail the conversation with, “Is there an RCB match today?”
That’s the thing. My brain often operates like 20 tabs open on incognito mode, and none of them are related. Occasionally, there’s a vague connection between what I say and what we’re discussing... but more often than not, my train of thought has no tracks. It just takes off like a rogue rocket.
Now here’s the best way I can describe it:
Whether it is a personal experience or a universal one, I am not sure, but poetry is something I like doing. If I do not write poems at least once a week, I am diabetic and I need to take my medicines after every meal, but my salary is not much, and I like going on a Northeast tour once in my life, and oops, I spilled the milk. I always forget that the gas stove was on a low flame. Oh, gone are the days I played FLAMES. There's a Flames University, maybe they all play it there. Well, chuck it. Where was I?
This is how I would sound in my head. Also, there's a cat GIF downloaded in my brain that's making me giggle mindlessly all the time.
See what I mean?
It’s a beautiful mess up there. A chaotic, poetic, slightly unhinged internal monologue that somehow manages to keep life interesting, for me and everyone within a 10-foot radius.
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