Lost

A short run is better than none. That is what I believe.

I think it was the Friday before last, when my grandma was in hospital for observation on a weak heart. One of the first thing she asked when she saw me was, have I been running? I don't know where she got that from, maybe she remembered wrongly.

I was a regular swimmer, an occasional runner. I was, but stop my regular pool visit since a few months back. For no reason at all. Just stop - completely. Still, I jog. Sometimes. When I feel like it. Like tonight. Well, like I said, a short run is better than none.

Similarly, a short piece is better than none. Not that I haven't been writing. Just that I am becoming conscious of what I put on my blog. The intimacy, the privacy of my thoughts, all lay out, stark naked. What would people think of me? A lovelorn born loser, with a feeble will, an aimless, pathetic life? What about the melodrama, my hyper-sensitive soul drowned in sorrow? I don't know. What have I been doing? Now, I am lost...and tired, with eyelids growing heavy.