Writeia

Some days, I stay in bed trying to stop the day from occurring. A hopeless matter indeed, but what can you do when you lose the strength to face the day as it is? There are tasks that need doing, and you recall them, and the guilt pushes you out of bed. I am engulfed by that guilt, and most days pass by with wishes to change that, one way or another. Don't get me wrong, I've had a good life, and it has been mostly fulfilling in terms of having achieved some wishes. However, when it comes to depth, I've barely swum below the surface, afraid of the dark blue waters. Hopelessly, I look out the window and see the gray clouds covering the city, about to pour down. I take the weather personally too, and that is no way to live, but that's how it has been for as long as I remember. Today, with its potential for heavy rain, the day is likely to flood me with emotions while covering this wonderful Kathmandu city. However, I have a few things I want to accomplish on rainy days. I ...

We were at a construction site in the hilly regions of Nepal. The hills were just like any other, swathes of green lush hills as far as the eye could see. They were parallel across each other for miles and miles with traces of small or significant rivers flowing in between them. You’d take a road and it would inevitably lead you down to the rivers and high up again to connecting hills. Our work had begun a few months ago, and we were laying a few miles of asphalt road. If you’ve ever seen a road being built on the hills of Nepal, you’d know that we required a lot of rocks and strong stones. Mining the proper rocks that would qualify was a challenging task, to say the least.Rocks and stones were on our minds for weeks now. Locals and officials required wooing to get the job done, as is the case with any large construction project. We were quartered atop a small hill from which we could see parts of the road we were working on, it was a good vantage point. Across our small hill was a lar...

It does get sticky at times. I've wondered for a long time what this may all be about. Well, it's about everything you can think of, and then some. It shouldn't have been my way of life, but within my heart, I can only find faint resistance, which also is always diminishing. I cannot, for the life of me, pinpoint the specific event that turned the tide to bring me up to this point, but I cannot assume any regrets, as my actions were my own, free will or not. The events of a life, written in plain words. I would have, at a young age, laughed at such a notion, but now I know a little more. What can one assume to understand about life when the whole future lies ahead, sneering at the victim who approaches it without fail? I also, at times, think of the things I did—some mentionable, some not. As I grow a little weary and as time brings me to acknowledge it, I pretend to hold an air of importance about myself, but deep within, I know that too is in vain. Such despair and contra...