Rants of a modern lunatic

 I often do not know what to say, or how to act or when to love and when to get down during war. The questions puzzle me, the answers puzzle me more. There is a fine line between bliss and agony, and that line is called eternity. I breathe inside eternity, and so do you. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, only naivete survives and everything else blackens into thick memories. I am flooded with cheap experiences and quiet blissful moments, yet I lack what every other human being lacks. I lack the patience of a monk, I lack the alacrity of a swindler, I lack everything divine and everything evil. I lack stillness yet I am overwhelmed with it, I lack the inner flow yet I am a river in its final course, I lack you yet I sense your presence before and after every sleep, I lack sounds but I also lack silences - while the machine converts everything into either you or nothing.

Waiting. Waiting for the train to reach, waiting for the phone to ring, for the bucket to get filled, for the contentedness of life to be experienced. Waiting for enough money to buy something, waiting to spend evenings inside dimly lit rooms with the love of your life, waiting to find the love of your life, waiting to be found and to be lost again under a starlit sky, to be a hero and to be forgotten at the same time. Thinking about Waiting while waiting for the perfect job, waiting for the pay hike, waiting for just one stroll through the whiteness of the Antarctic, waiting to win, or not to lose, waiting to savour that sweetness of summer mangoes once your suger levels are down, waiting to reunite with lost loved ones after death, waiting to get back inside your mother's womb to be reborn and probably wait for something else afterwards. Eagerly waiting to linger on, patiently waiting for everything to end - waiting for a future that never is, waiting for a day when everything wi...