There are times when the self becomes too much with you. When you want to lie down and just laze around. When you flip through the TV remote and cruise endless channels. The sameness of TV. Tonelessness. Someone truly called it an idiot box. The incessant commercials. The reruns, the resays, the reshows. You want to read something. Water your grey cells. You don't. You feel sick in your tummy. A moth lifts from your heart, takes a full cricle and sits plumply back again. You think something. Impish, naughty meanderings. You long for solace. It doesn't come.
Many people will never understand you in life. You may be good. In your heart. In your thoughts. It happens often, whenever you want to hear someone, the voices go dim. Whenever you want to express yourself, the feelings don't come. Whenever you want to hug, the distances grow long like shadows towards evening. I guess, we must learn to striddle life as it comes. And it never comes easy!
You love and feel stupid. You don't love and feel empty. You yearn and feel wretched. You don't yearn and feel listless. You miss someone and go bonkers in your head. You don't miss and accuse being called heartless. Strange ways of a sloppy world!
I know I am being Socratic today. He was an ancient Athenian philosopher and teacher to Plato and Xenophon. I am a student of life.
Generally I am not like this.
Just one of those days.