The Truth About Space, Time and Silence

It was a hectic days, been busy but refuse to address em’. And I deflect all of it into something I considered entertaining like getting hooked up on TV series marathon (at least for the first 20 minutes of it).

The caffeine does kick up no more. I am left feeling tired, sleepy and anhedonia. Nothing entertains me for long and what scares me the most is the old depression symptoms might return. People say that I have an emotionless face and I will develop wrinkles the last. I can never make a good actor with this expressionless look. I can never attract attention with my flat speaking tone. So I choose to write as the way of delivering something that I failed verbally. Maybe that is the only way I can get people to read and understand me in bits and pieces.

Trying to be funny to mask the turmoil inside. The aches with no evident cause growing malignantly. Some obscurity of thoughts and feelings. A numbness of passion. Maybe the uncertainties of my future should be considered as one of the predisposing factors. Maybe lacks of activity and distraction leads me astray into the realm of lethal silence. I want something that can thrills me to the core. I want those adrenalin rush, I want to feel threatens and fear, worst things can happen is increased heart rate and alertnss, I can live with that. Living sedentarily can only kill me, a paradox of being murdered with no murderer in a comfort of my own space, time and silence.

When the purpose is nowhere near, which goal should I kick the ball into?