Blinking hard, sitting in the lone corner of my room. The blank page in front of me is staring back at me, that too in a similar frowned gaze. I roll my pen up & down the desk against my calloused fingers. I close my eyes and try to focus.
My shadow, is cast on the wall by the light from the lamp on my desk. It is a quiet night. My room is lit up by the luminance of the lamp, the dullness merges effortlessly with it. I’m still trying to think.
My fingers are rolling in my hair, like curling them. The page is still glaring at me, seems as if it is curling its lips into a vicious smile, judging me— i can hear the clock ticking, louder than my thoughts.
I’m thinking now. I guess I can now feel the pieces are coming together. The blank page in front of me; was it an indication that I’d finally leave behind a whole lot of past?
3:00 AM Sadness often pushes you to extents that pull out a particular art of misery and gloom from somewhere within, where there’s no light or air. Am I happy now? Maybe, a little. Sometimes it becomes too difficult to judge your own thoughts, this is life I guess. Hard, cruel, vulnerable and ruthless!