Too much has been happening for the last few weeks. I do not like this much happening.

For one, it completely ruins all the plans one has — one just doesn’t get a chance to think of anything. All he can do is to run amok trying to catch up. Plan? Bruhh! What plan? Run!

Second, the routine that you so diligently, so delicately have been following for some time now? Yeah, forget about that. Screw that. That’s going to go for a toss too. I haven’t been able to stick to a single routine. None. Nada.

And sure, I could have foreseen and planned for this spike in activity, right? Nope, not at all.

You can’t plan for events that haven’t been scheduled yet.

You can’t plan for the back to back birthdays you haven’t been invited to yet.

You can’t plan for friends and relatives remembering and visiting you after ages.

And you can’t plan for the sudden feeling of illness, of exhaustion this whole running around leaves you with.

Could I have avoided any of that? Did I not welcome any of what happened? No, of course not. But what I ended up doing is sit alone at my desk, physically and mentally sick and tired, trying to calm things down. To Breathe.

Because there’s no way to plan against the unplanned, against irregularity.