The mundane mechanic life beckons yet again :-/ What a pity! I will miss my solitude, those indulgent hours of contemplation, my infrequent reflections in the form of my writes, those imperfect rhyme-less poems, my ever happy countenance, my effervescent self, my mystic ruminations. I will miss the movies that I watched, books that I read, I have formed such an everlasting emotional bond with them. Oh, they are my children, my treasures.
I don't have the slightest clue as why I become low spirited , outrageously superficial when I live that mechanic life , rushing after things that have barely any matters of consequence. I laugh a heartless laughter, seldom do I cry and seldom do I feel. What triggers this metamorphosis, I am yet to find. I know, that imp is there within me and there are days, when I rebuke it so hard that it gets subdued but then it again assumes its horrible shape.
It makes me feel like a mediocre lost in a crowd of mediocrity, hapless, sapless, rootless. I abhor that life. I really do. I abhor that "me". Disgustingly!
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