Sometimes I think of writing a new blog about the books I read. Every book I finish I feel like I have something to say. A voice stifled inside me. A thought begging to be heard.
This is the best place to pen my thoughts and bore my readers. But the problem is the disorderliness of my thoughts. It would require more than a management student to organise, bear or even decipher them. I come across as an introvert who ends up as a person who just cannot keep his mouth shut.
I have the received compliments like " Gosh! I didn't know you had a tongue in you!"
and "Ayyo!! For God's sake, can you keep quiet just for a minute??"
The best part is, these compliments are from the same man, my Manager.
My corner at office is the noisiest you'll come across. My absence casts an eerie silence over the bay. I discuss everything with everyone and everyone discusses everything with me. But I also have this feeling of having never been able to express what I feel or I think. Very few people, less than the fingers on my right hand, know me. Perhaps even less. Partly because I harbour this feeling that every other thing that defines me is a dirty little secret. A part that refuses to divulge.
The other day someone told me "I feel so sad when I am alone."
I was so amazed at the simplicity of the thought. I too, am a depressed person when I am not with people I know but I was never able to put the feeling into words. It was too complex for me to express. I was confused with myself until that person said these words. It struck a chord immediately. The simplicity of the statement and the deep meaning attached to it. I might claim to be intelligent but this simple explanation was something I could never come up with...
Distorted thoughts, really!!! I was thinking about writing on books! :P