Split second

Pratishtha Gupta
The Unlisted
Published in
2 min readSep 20, 2015

Introverts. Extroverts. Ambiverts. Seekers. Content. Rational. Irrational. Feeling. Sensing. Intuitive. Thinking. Judging. Diplomats.

Find yourself here? Hmm.

I am not sure about this property of categorizing people in a word; capturing their essence in a trait.

For instance, we all know people who are exceptionally outgoing and quirky but aren’t known personally by any. And then there are people who make way for some loner tendencies but surprisingly, end up being friends with almost every second person virtually.

The great minds will argue about the classification on the basis of exhibiting certain actions and reactions more than often. But then, aren’t we all a blend of every trait anyway?

There’d be this tiny moment where I, even being the loudest, will choose silence over words and demand peace and time to explore.

There’d be this lateral phase where people who have been keeping dissatisfaction for so long, will overcome the societal conflicts in their heads and at least think over to start a happy journey, for a while.

There’d be these milliseconds where you’d have to drop your outspoken behaviour and get into a hypocrite skin, as they say, that every human does.

There are times where you see a plenty of questions but no answers.

The endless queries about ourselves; our lives; the sour, sweet human behaviour.

I know a lot of people would be having an entirely different opinion but for me, people aren’t any type. There’s no one phase, not any constant.

Each day, each moment, every single second, you’d see a fresh breeze in the unpredictability of every living body in this universe.

People change; time change; time changes people.

Human mind and psychology is crazy. What works for me, might not work for a zillion others. What drives me this moment, won’t make any sense the next one.

It’s all in the head. And this second.

Or wait! In the head’s split second.. Maybe?

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Pratishtha Gupta
The Unlisted

Unfolding the chronicles of my existence | One story at a time