Who Won?

This week, the block wins.

The sinus, the cold, the sore throat and the fever. They win.

The dull voices in my head that say that nobody is interested, they win.

The dark room, the lack of direct sunlight on my bed, the dreams of still being in Delhi. They win.

The tears win.

The feeling of apathy that I was afraid was gnawing at my heart wins.

The disgust I feel towards myself for not finishing a book in a month wins.

The realisation that hours spent on long-form articles are not as equally enlightening as reading a book, that wins.

The pettiness of the masses surrounding me wins.

My vulnerability to that pettiness wins.

The laptop with its glitches, that wins.

My inability to literally put pen to paper wins.

The fear of dark day clouds in my soul wins.

The pain in my shoulder wins.

I open myself to the hurts and the ugliness of the world, and they all win.

I lose.

I think.

I am wrong.

Mine, a small victory, but a victory nevertheless, is registered in the indifference that the world seems to be coloured with.