Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

Transient Solitude, Dithering Solutions

Let Down
By Radiohead

[…]

You know, you know where you are with
You know where you are with
Floor collapsing
Floating, bouncing back
And one day….
I am going to grow wings
A chemical reaction
Hysterical and useless
Hysterical and…

Let down and hanging around
Crushed like a bug in the ground
Let down and hanging around

[…]

Like Estragon and Vladimir, I’m forever Waiting for Godot. The faculty of anticipation bordering absurdity as the capacity of waiting withering.

Is it so hard to make one commitment to fill this epoch of time, when there’s absolutely no hindrance, no attachment to other place and at least a foresight of expecting to be near-presence of this locality?

One day off. Near and about. Silence.

I feel sorry for myself. I’m trying too hard to appease this facetious pantomime. Mouthing and jerking and twitching for semblance of plausible expression. I’m humouring my ill-humoured self with certainty with certain degree of sacrificing the prospect of my hectic life.

One day off the hectic life on this eventful day.

And I found myself thinking — aloud — Why?

Perhaps it’s time to be overtly apathetic. Curbing the liquidity of resources to bare minimum. Saying yes, to say no. To contradict myself, for my own benefit — not being selfish — rather, just to be self-aware.

+++

I know, it’s not a promises. And you know it’s the day. Yet the day wasted with you in the familiarity of personal-comfort. I should know better, for someone who is used to normalcy, impromptu event sounds taboo.

+++

Update:

Alright, my fault.

*sigh*

Man, I’m really easy to cave in, innit?

*tunneling out*

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