My writing is the perfunctory YOUNESS of Me


11401140_957934780893706_6305633941120376158_nMy creative expression is the perfunctory youness of me. However, five years from now, the concept of writing was seated somewhere in my cerebral domain or unconscious region – dumped, discarded, abandoned, or barely recognizable!

I possessed inkling of nothing with any conceivable proximity to writing.

For me, writing barely existed in commercial context or in any other context.

For the writing, I existed as a hopeless, non-docile chap!

Can’t tell for sure which of us (me or writing) first discovered each other.

To the best of my recollection, it was the miraculous 2010 that laid foundation of our lexical courtship. But it was the love solely based on conditional pacts – to be sincere, devoted, dedicated, persistent, and loyal, not to each other, but to her (writing) only.

Though hand-around was permitted as she was the natural dweller in virtually everything and in every form I encountered. From the vast realm of technologies to an array of spectacular domains, I met writing manifested or symbolized in countless spectrums. I loved virtually every spectrum of her. For those unhindered or unexplored, there’s no hurry at all, as I’ll buy time for them.

My association or rather courtship with writing has completed five years now, with firm determination to continue this for couple of years down the line.

These five years…the “improved better than before” perfunctory youness of me now explicitly demonstrates reflection of her. EVERYWHERE!

She’s in my thought, she dwells in my reverie, she makes forcible entry into my sleep, she is the evil necessity at my work place, she walks with me around the park during morning stroll. She understands me like a doting wife.

This obsessive attachment with her grows denser with each little effort of mine. She hates destructive procrastination. She can’t approve the part of my personality favoring (even on mild spur) evasion. She immediately whispers to me not to follow indolence whenever that feel tries to get over me.

Why does she do all these things with me?

Because she cares. But she also understands that her being with me depends largely on my devotion and staunch regard for her. Doesn’t it sound like a key essential to survival of marital attachment? What do you make out of this?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s