Since when did living become so important, that everything I do aims to keep me going, living on. I get into these phases of acute inaction when my mind stops. I get into these spaces of vacuum where my entire existence comes to a standstill. Then I invariably land onto the discourses of psychology which name it a 'condition' and offer me therapies to pull myself out of it or spirituality that urges me to rediscover myself and realize the fact that my 'self' is a fluid concept. These discourses are meant to relieve me of the numbness of this situation, help me live. Living is something I need to consciously try and do, push myself, shed any inertia life gets into and constantly strive to introduce elements of life into a mundane existence.
It was not so when I was growing up. I strived for something else. And Living just happened. That 'something else' still surfaces time and again. It is still nameless, faceless as it was when I was 13-14 years old and trying to make sense of things.
It was not so when I was growing up. I strived for something else. And Living just happened. That 'something else' still surfaces time and again. It is still nameless, faceless as it was when I was 13-14 years old and trying to make sense of things.
