i could write my magnum opus or i could go to bed

it’s a random monday night, the clock strikes 1 AM and it’s the 3rd hour of me doom-scrolling through my Instagram feed. i rarely use my main account anymore, i don’t like knowing what people are doing in their lives while i lay in bed doing absolutely nothing for the millionth night in a row. this account seems peaceful, i don’t follow anyone i know here.. it’s just a bunch of random strangers i met on the internet. who are surprisingly good at what they do and i adore it. i adore the fact that among the millions of faceless faces i see in the day to day life, i somehow stumbled upon this gold mine of creativity. the thing with art kids is that if you come across one, you sooner than later are surrounded by tens and hundreds of them. the thought that i am in this circle of these cool kids and they follow me based on my work led to a pleasant rhetoric, “am i cool or something?’. to be honest, i would not know. i have never engaged in self praise concerning with the count of followers i or people around me have had, but this feels like something i am rather proud of. hehe.

now circling back to me doom-scrolling through to Instagram, every now and then my finger would mysteriously slip and open up the accounts of certain people who i haven’t talked to in a rather long time. usually such stalkery is followed by an intense rush of nostalgia which in turn triggers a number of strong emotions-best left unsaid. the very second later, a thought that follows is one of anguish, contrition; an internal affliction. why am i concerned with the absurd, why must i spend my time thinking about the tiniest things in my life-the sadness, the uninvited qualms, the jealousy, the relentless nostalgia. isn’t my purpose bigger than what surrounds our daily lives? for the only thing i could and should do is poetry, should i not write and write until my ink runs dry, and it befalls on to my blood to keep my quill running and if my arms fall out or i run out of pages, i must sing the words that come out of my heart and let people read it, hear it and feel it. for if i don’t do that, i would be known as somebody who didn’t immerse themselves into their art, somebody who barely tread the waters and ran away, or worse didn’t find their calling, their purpose.

a million tabs open on my browser each neatly tucked away in a labelled group that i definitely haven’t actually opened since at least a month. my notes app is a series of headings for pieces i never wrote. broken sentences stashed away in separate notes somewhere. and screenshots of things that inspired me. when your prevalent inner dialogue is a breathing personification of impostor syndrome, a simple chore of clicking that tab and finishing up reading the last paragraph becomes impossibly arduous. but with all this awareness, there comes a lot of passive guilt of not being able to overcome something that can very easily be passed as laziness. when words make me happy, why would i not write? when i love this book so much, why would i not finish the last two chapters? when i have this tab open, my friend has been recommending this show for ages now, so much that i am actively avoiding texting him because he’ll ask me about it, why wouldn’t i just watch it? if i have to write this and writing is the only thing i could do, why wouldn’t i? my brain hurts now.

i will get to it some day. i will definitely finish up reading that book and those articles. i will definitely watch the rest of that video some day and watch made in abyss, jiggy.. soon. i promise. i finished this newsletter in 13 days, i am sure i will do the rest too.

until then, here are a couple of things that i found rather interesting, and i hope you do too.

1. another piece by Harsh Anand, man’s a genius.

All my breaths

I am reminded

that my half life is six months

but my fingers wrinkle by

the time the third full moon

peeks into my window.

Come watch my paralysis,

my inability to move

as my house burns

and love sleeps beside me.

Come witness the great collapse,

I have been

made a spectacle of before,

it isn't as heartbreaking

as resting my head

on a broken collarbone.

See my eyes shy from

the truth in yours,

too often have I tried

to recognise you

with blindfolds on.

My carbon is dated to

everything fleeting,

and I hurt

as I hug my lover.

Hear my hands brush

against your cheek

like rustling leaves

or the sobs of

time denying me the wish

of holding still.

Feel me

grow heavier from your pages

I add to my books

and apologise.

Say, I'm sorry.

Say, I have run too far

and I've forgotten my way back

and even my crutches are broken.

Say, will you be so kind as to

carry me home?

I will leave my baggage here

to ease your burden.

2.

// this beautiful music track Sundown by Cole Anyway which is pictured on the wardrobe test of James Dean and Lois Smith in 'East of Eden' in 1954. i adore this video because of the way the chemistry between the two is almost magnetizing. event if you don’t watch anything in this list. do watch this one. pls :)

3.

// the inspiration for the title of this newsletter, a vlog by Savannah Brown.

4.

// one of the best videos i have seen in ages. courtesy of will farrel on funny or die.

until next time,

soumya xx

UPDATE: as this newsletter is one of the only things that is tying my sanity together, i am turning this into an email one. fingers crossed.

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