Supersonic actuators are slowly building a crescendo in my head.
I was happier then, when my mind was at ease and my balls were firmly connected to my pelvis.
Now, every day seems surreal. Driving to work has become an adventure in itself. The people I know and the people I meet remind me of cardboard cutouts that sprang to life from some strange quarry in the back of my mind.
Then it repeats itself. An incredibly sickening, overplayed mantra that rings true for every one of us: ‘there’s got to be more than this’.
Some people can be incredibly satisfied with what they have. Some people are more than happy to settle for less. Some people know what they want. Some people know what they don’t want.
I don’t want to go thru each day like it doesn’t exist. But I think I’ve come to a point where it doesn’t really make a difference anymore.
I’m so tired.
Living for the moment still seems to be a far better alternative to drawing up a road map.
There is no plan. There’s no method to the madness.
You do what you want because you feel that it’s right.
You do what you want because you feel that you want to.
You do what you want because you feel that you can.
We don’t get many chances to be swept up in whatever moments we find ourselves in.
Maybe it’s time we changed all that.
For some time or other for these last two weeks, I’ve been wishing for something to spontaneously combust during my day.
I’ve been starting to feel the pull of monotony taking over. What was once drudgery has now evolved into a different kind of beast; a beast where aloofness is the norm, and where the chances of becoming wayward are as slim as a eunuch being tadpole-armed.
I don’t expect excitement to be procured over the course of the immediate future. It’d just be brilliant if I could pull myself out of the hole that I’ve dug. The bright side of all this is that the aforementioned hole is starting to become more shallow by a will of its own.
There’s got to be more than this.