Dead Time

It is the slowest part of the day. The time when you just sit on one corner waiting for the world to just speed up its pace and eventually send you to where you wanted to be. Technically, you just sit there, looking around maybe even checking out every single person who sits there beside you. You try to find something that might interest you, yet, you fail. And though you try to avoid what’s coming next, you just simply fall into it with nothing but a deep breath that marks its beginning. Slowly, you sink deep into your thoughts.

You have been avoiding it for one main reason: so that your pretenses of how organized your thoughts are won’t blow its cover. The irony of it seems so hard to muster. Every single strand of memory and realization seems to bombard every single inch of space in your brain. But it’s completely unfortunate because you have to accept the fact that you are back there again. And all you have to do is sort out every single thing and try to understand whatever it is injected into your thoughts may it be new or old.

Questions are always there. They never fail to keep you awake at night and wonder where on earth they came from. And though you try to find the answers, it feels like it’s nothing but scanty.

You close your eyes, take a long deep breath and you finally find yourself again.