As humans we're taught to be compulsive, to start anything new from the beginning, to follow numbers and definite patterns, to confirm the idea of wholeness.
I also cannot deny the fact that most things do not see the light of the day because we're very good at procrastinating, but somehow even when the littlest drop of self-will takes birth in our desert of 'things-to-do', we tell it to hold on till the end of the week, or month, or year-or round numbers on the clock at the least.
Sometimes when I find myself close to starting something new, I am reminded of all the times I've almost started to do things but put them on standby and eventually forgot about it. I could've finished that calligraphy course if I didn't start on Wednesday, I may have loved the film that I didn't go to because I was sure I'd be 3 minutes late. I definitely could have avoided the terrible exchange of words had I cut the call 7 minutes before 12 am.
Isn't it sad how we do or do not do things just because the timing seems a little off. Maybe one of these days I'd still watch a movie even if I reach the theatre 9 minutes late. I might begin something 2 days before the new month. Maybe I'll love someone without waiting for the right time. Maybe I'll start a poem mid-way.
Maybe I already have.
©sakshi1099
S