UnSpent

This endless stock of energy! Wow, it feels empowering. Like you can go on, on, ON and ON! I bet that's why the elders are so pissed at us. Because they despise us for what they've lost. I sit here, trapped in this room of mine, this little matchbox, inside the confines of my skin, thinking about things that I'd promised myself to not think about about a day ago. The mind racing through memories, thoughts, and a lot of nothingness with a restlessness that I have almost gotten used to for some time now. True that this restlessness comes in bouts, bouts of helpless madness. Madness sounds fashionable, I suppose.

I woke up with a start as usual. Rather, I woke up startled, as usual. My dream never felt more real.

"पागल हूँ  मैं तेरे बारे में। पता है तुझे?"(I'm crazy about you. Do you know that?)

That's the last, and frankly the only line I recollect saying in my dream. I only remember the pair of eyes that I was looking into, that looked back into mine, transfixed. Like they couldn't move even if they tried to. The face looks blurry. But that's okay. Let's leave the resolution selection to youtube's control panel. 

The days are going by in contemplation, movies, sweat, books and plans. Now, there's purpose, or purposes, less than a month away, These new-found purposes, never before encountered, can and will break me. But hopefully, shall make me stronger, or give me a broken back. 

A thing about trying not to think....

Why is it that you think about not thinking about a thing, and end up thinking about it a lot more than you think you'll think? Think about it. Follies of the human mind, I tell you!

A thing about all this pent up energy is a lack of direction. Push-ups and squats have stopped working. They quell the restlessness for 10 minutes, till the heart-rate's back to normal. And then, goodbye, peace! Then the over-thinking starts all over again. And damn Sundays!

These folks, who claim rights to your attention, can't they just GO! GO!!

If the world were a person, I'd catch him/her by his/her lapels, and give a good shaking! The world is one person. Some sort of a unified consciousness. And a big chunk of it is scared to death. Some parts of it dies like it is not going to live again. A bigger part of it dies half death, like it is only going to half-live. Bloody zombies. All the rules of the world, all the nameless and faceless 'rule-makers' bind the half-livers in inescapable shackles of conformity. And no one sees how or when they get trapped. The only thing they remember is the day their eyes open, and when they realize their impotence. Will I be one of them? It is a question that each one of asks to oneself. The question is like shouting out loud into the abyss. You never know how deep it gets. So you stop hoping for the echo, maybe an answer. 

Fairness that I've seen turning to pink, curls that look like the ocean, a thousand times beautiful than when they are bound by the world, the curves of a guitar, and the sound of Spanish music, unadulterated, soothing, in the middle of the night, all you luscious beautiful things, stay away from my dreams. For thanks to you, I sleep a lot more than I'd like to. And because of you, the days look a tad bit less exciting than they usually are. So you top, GO! Go away to safety. Where my sight can't reach. For sleep was, is and shall be a foe. The one that's robbing my days from me. Days that 'd rather spend with you things that I dream of. 

Life ain't a spectator sport.