When was the last time I loved my thoughts? I do think these days, but that is merely to keep my brain alive. Four months in solitude, I feel almost dead. I got to live somewhere except in my own head. My days are stereotypical
Unsolicited love- both offered and accepted
Benumbing fantasies
Goofy quarrels with parents
Lifeless conversations
Binge eating
Starving to nullify the binge
Apathetic reading of novels- fervently hoping they'd rescue me
Incomplete journals
Banal and cruel singing
Meaningless forwarding of texts
Aloof struggles to be in good health
Languid hovering in memories
Stereotyped browsing( I bet you never heard of something like that)
Declaration of featherbrained statements of the just bracketed sort
Dreamy travels
Mundane tests
Incessant reading of textbooks
The list is long. But since I sound pathetic already, I'll stop here. This is what I was afraid of. This is why I preferred to work. I don't know which to regret.. having worked or having quit work. If I hadn't tasted the luxury of work, this wouldn't seem vapid. To all my peers who lived through a year of this lifeless life, hats off. This period is closing out. Whether or not I will pursue my dreams , I do not know yet. But I got to live for a while, for my own sake. I can live for my dreams later. And I don't know if this is an evanescent thought or a plan of action. But I succeeded at completing this. For now, it's all that matters.
