Well, almost.

You see, you only become hyper-aware of your surroundings once you become a writer. Until then, you only have a vague idea of what it means to be ‘hyper-aware’.

For instance, a few years ago would probably not have noticed the miniscule droplets of water from a leaking pipe falling on my right fore-arm as I sit typing this post on my phone. I would probably not wondered about the dude sitting next time, sipping his chai, deep in contemplation. I would probably not have had questions about his subject of contemplation. Was he recently jilted. Did he recently lose his job? No, he still wears frshly-pressed clothes. That can’t be it. Family problems, then? Maybe not, he’d probably be off discussing it with his girlfriend (boyfriend?) elsewhere. He keeps looking at his phone every now and then. Ah, waiting for someone, then. S/he is late? Or is there more to it? He keeps furrowing his brows. He wouldn’t do tho if he were simply waiting. No, there’s more to it. The furrowed brow tells me that things are not all hunky-dory. Notice how slowly he brings the glass of cutting-chai to his lips and only takes a small sip. It almost seems as if he is drinking it as nto distract himself from the more pressing issues at hand – pun unintended.

There it is. He looked at the phone again.? Nice phone. Seems expensive. He must have a decent job to afford it. Is he looking at the photos? Is that a smile on his face? Yeah, looks like it. Except, it is the kind of sad smile that appears when you are reminiscing about your happy memories. I wonder what he has lost that it pains him so much.

Judging (yes, writers are allowed to do that) by his general appearance, I’d say he has loved and lost. Judging by his fidgety fingers, I’d think he is probably trying to regain the said ‘lost’ love. Something tells me, he knows it is an attempt in vain. And yet, he is willing to try, or so the writer in me hopes, really.

I got carried away a little there, didn’t I?

I guess that is what being hyper-aware as a writer means to me – putting a little part of my surroundings in me and putting a little bit of me in the surroundings. Then, I sit back and watch them play with each other and create a whole new world. A world built purely out of imagination; a writer’s imagination.

All I need to do now, is just bring it together. Wish me luck. :-)