One of those days, everyday passes by, so little productivity, held back by mere feelings, like a girl.
Moving the same limbs, the same lingering thoughts occupying the head, knowing a solution, not understanding the situation, thinking but not acting. Over analyzing and coming up with an outcome in the head, puts an end into trying.
The head so restless but the body unable to move, the war between the mind and body. Most of the time not coming up with a solution but introducing more materials of diversions adding more weight and burden.
Danger is everywhere, death can happen anytime, feeling rather safe and sound as if nothing can harm me. I am immortal. Engulfed by the everyday comfort of a private home with little disturbance. Rather taking things for granted but at the same time trying to remind the self of what may happen.
Self pity is a pity; I don’t need your sympathy. She said to him when he showed affection. Being alone with the quiet seems like a perfect combination, taking the things around for granted, until it is gone. Then the quietness becomes hurt and the loneliness pain.
Bringing logic to illogical things is self deception, it is faith not realism. Knowing but not understanding.
Not knowing the fundamentals and haven’t yet reached, knowing the self, as if staring in the mirror, just staring.
