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  • Writer's pictureVedashree Khambete Sharma

Parasite. Sponge. Vampire.

Not nice things to call someone. But this isn’t someone – it’s something. Two things actually. Things that have been sapping all my energy, my happiness and most of all, my desire to write. Things that leave me so drained at the end of each day, so mentally fatigued that it seems like a Herculean task to sit and think a coherent thought, leave alone actually writing a sentence.

But not anymore.

One of these evils is behind me now. I’ve buried my association with it, taking most of the weekend to throw out the poisonous tension it filled me with. On the surface it seems like a local advertising award contest, but behind the scenes on a Friday night, its true nature is revealed. It appears in all its glory as a mammoth Stress Monster, gigantic in size, merciless in nature, with particularly vindictive feelings towards me. But I swear by the God of Copywriters, who’s hopefully not out drinking with his art partner, that come April I shall have my vengeance.

The other half of this morbid duo, has a public face that’s all glamour and charm, beauty and dream. But it too harbours ill-will towards my health and well-being, especially mental. Which is why it bids me do its work till my brain is incapable of processing anything beyond skincare. So that I dream of pigmentation, mutter about melanoma and generally behave like a beauty junkie.

It’s going to stay in my life in the forseeable future, but I’m not going to let it drain me anymore. Begone foul fiend and all that. The moment I feel enough is enough, I’m going to stand up to it, look it straight in the eye and… run away from it. Because it’s great to say no, but it’s even better to not have to.

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