it's great that i get to devote time to think things over even while rushing through my schedule.
these days, i could best describe myself or the way i've been running as something that is not too predictable, yet not too new.
i pass through things and situations as though a special self has taken over me, one which does not rely too much on the expressive and jovial side of me, nor on the mundane and paranoid-hysterical me.
it seems things have changed.
it seems i take things more slowly, and with less gusto.
is that bad?
it seems everything stands at a semi-monotonous stance.
as though the very red of my being has drained.
is that bad?
maybe that's the word.
immunity to everything itself.
as though i'm walking along a pathless 'road' yet not necessarily empty.
as though sadness itself has taken a silent form, one that does not materialize from my mind, or my heart.
as though happiness just flies above me, ever-fleeting, ever-fast, ever-unreachable... like a shapeless cloud that just stays there, above, hovering, unequaled by any space that i walk on...
i've been thinking lately, what's with everything that i've been doing?
how come there is no peak, no silly shout, no spontaneous jump or twirl?
until i've reached a self-conclusion that maybe, it is all about happiness.
everything seems to boil down to it.
the sound of water slowly flowing on stone-covered paths, a single butterfly on a canvassed space, the taste of air in the early morning, slightly wet and carrying with it the smell of green on brown earth...