You know,it's quite sad. When you first start a thing like this, you imagine you're an automated instrument that can churn out endless material to fill up a lot of this virtual space. That seems very true too, initially. But soon you realise that it's not so. Writing even a couple of lines requires a lot of thinking. You're stuck more often. You sit back and scratch your head. You wonder just how you can write atleast another sentence that seems somewhat sensible while still adding volume. Bad features for a writer to possess, you say. Couldn't agree more, mate. Then again, as long as you have banter to fill up pages and naive, unassuming folks to lap it all up, get it going.
There's this feeling, you know, of maybe having lived this day before. Ya, I've spoken of dejavu before. But you know, this is different, in a way or two. It's a really weird feeling. You feel like you're one day ahead or one day before the calender date. Is this how the drunk must be feeling? You're rushing to college and checking and rechecking if you've got all that's needed. And you realise you're mentally (or psychologically or whatever) one day ahead!
Ah well, like always, things still go on. You still live, even if it's the same day twice minus the previous day. You still realise that nothing stops no matter what.