I finally admit – I have been bitten and that too, by no ordinary bug but one of the deadliest – The Writer’s Bug! For those who have started following me recently, you ought to believe me; I used to be perfectly normal before I was bit. I was like any ordinary human who used to hate traffic jams, be scared of conversations with strangers, be revolted with muddy water clogged roads, and be angry when my car was stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Since I’ve been bit, I am no longer me. Traffic jams seem like a golden opportunity to slow down and soak in the world around me. I jump at a chance to introduce myself to a stranger, hear their story and tell mine. Water anywhere, even if it is the middle of a street is a perfect playground to splash, hear the ripples and follow the droplets on their journey to the sea.
I see stories all around me, just waiting to be told. There was a story dancing around butterfly wings yesterday, another one hiding behind a garbage dump, and yet another riding the clouds thinking it could touch the moon. Each one rare, beautiful and untold before. Some stories are of course completely crazy and some are adorably cute, but have to admit that all of them are amazingly honest.
All days are not as bad! On some days I can actually eat without finding a story wrapped inside my food. Also to be fair, I must say, that all stories aren’t as demanding. Some actually leave me alone to finish my job for the day, before I can attend to them. But I fear, as days go by, the bug is taking more and more control. The number of stories haunting me is increasing and I am finding it really difficult to differentiate between reality and fiction. I am also scared, I don’t know how many days I have left to survive.
Pray for me my dear friends and family! I don’t want to die. The only saving grace perhaps, even if I die, I would still be living around in countless stories and memories that have been woven around, thanks to this bug which bit me not so long ago.