I think I need to start talking to spaces again. And the best place to start, I reckon, is this. What is it that they say about a void being a sponge? So here’s some junk coming up.

More often than not, I have been tempted to say that the existential crisis is extremely over-rated. Why exactly I have not been able to say it is due to the inability to free myself from the monstrous eddies of this crisis. In the brief moments that I manage to stop pondering about my life and the associated topics, I wonder about the existence of others. And when I say others, I refer to a particular lot. It is the bunch that makes you ask why homosapiens are called a superior race and where they left that lumpy grey matter that, presumably, all of us are born with.

I am increasingly finding myself in their august company - almost to a point of being paralysed with fear. They are there at your college, your workplace, in the party that you go to (even occasionally), in the malls, in the cinema halls – you name it. And what do you say to them? Contrary to what most people who know me are inclined to believe, I have tried my best to interact with them. Of course, no doubt that I have failed miserably.

And it truly boggles the mind. How, just how do these people that one tends to chance upon as an off-shoot of society get around everyday? They are most definitively toxic and I would imagine it would be impossible to afford them in today’s world where we are fighting, in more ways than one, for a safer haven.

Now, before I get those snarls, I would like to know or, in the very least, hear about someone who has never come across a specimen of the species I just described. The more I think about it, the more I am inclined to dunk the hitherto stationary object of my thoughts (me) in favour of this multitude I see everyday.

If it isn’t apparent already, then I’d like to spell out the point of this particular piece and this particular space -- Unburdening.

Soak it all up.