Last day of the year and I'm sitting here, contemplating on the unpredictability of human life. We plot, we plan, we etch out our days and by we, I mostly mean me, staying true to my narcissistic streak. Does anything remotely beneficial come out of it? Maybe it radiates a sense of false comfort, maybe I plan it all knowing that it's not going to go the same way but maybe, just maybe, I plan it because the possibility that I will regret not planning it, will eat me alive.

The funniest thing is that by all this planning, I don't mean my plans for my future. I dare not think that ahead, for doing so is brain-numbingly overwhelming. I am talking about planning my day as soon as I wake my eyes to the rising sun if I ever am lucky or early enough to see it.

This need for detailing and foreseeing every possible outcome is what trumps me in driving and chess. Two areas which I should ideally, with all my planning, be good at, but instead, fail miserably. I say with a theoretical outlook, that it's all because the sheer number of permutations and possibilities throw me off and it's incredibly easy for chaos to take over, but the truth is, I'm scared. I'm terrified, of regretting each split second decision I make. 

Next year, I vow to be more care-free. Or do I really? Do I wish to go about life spontaneously, without a care in the world? I don't. I like my planning. I like that I care enough about the world and the people around me to do that. I like that my mind works in harmony with my needs, quickly adapting to all my quirks and the environment. I do wish that I be more kind to myself and those around me when things don't go my way. I wish that I would enjoy the journey to a decision more than its outcome. Classic "maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along the way" thinking, but it's true, at least for me. So happy new year, and may your plans come true!

Artwork: The Crystal Ball (1902), John William Waterhouse