Waking up in the morning.
Watching the news.
Fake irrelevant news.
Watching some YouTube videos on my ridiculously flat screen TV.
Nobody wrote to me today.
Like the other day.
And the day before.
I don’t even get spam ‘cause I’m out of the loop.
More media than social.
I watch more videos.
I see some landscapes from distant countries.
I see some people having fun in landscapes from distant countries.
I spy some people, I read some gossip.
I get angry.
I compare myself with them and their lives with mine.
Mine is worse.
I couldn’t escape this personality flaw of comparison.
I get angry at myself because of this.
Then I get angry for being too tough on myself.
I close the internet and I look outside.
The same country.
Nothing has changed.
Nobody learned anything.
Mistakes are being repeated.
New people are playing old roles in the same old story.
It is the same story apparently for the last 30 years but truly for the last 3000 years.
I watch the people’s eagerness to prove or to gain.
Or their senseless hope that it will be good this time.
“This time is going to be different!” they say.
They said that before too many times.
And they were wrong.
I sit at my computer.
It is a 13 years old laptop.
On Windows XP.
I did everything on it: writing, films, photography, coding, emails.
I wrote both CVs and resignations,
And ordered flights and hotel rooms.
I put some music in the background.
Instrumental, without voices.
So as to hear myself thinking.
And then I dive in a place where there is no space or time.
A place where I forget about myself.
A place where I don’t even have a name.
I follow a thought.
On a lucky day I follow an emotion.
Or a dream.
Today it is not a lucky day for writing.
Today I write because of an immense boredom
Of being alive
In a world where everything has or will repeat itself after some time,
Without bringing any new awarenesses,
Without bringing any new lessons to be learned,
Or experiences to be lived.
Today it has snowed for the first time this year.
I went to work and it snowed while I’ve been there.
I heard that creaky sound under my shoes while returning home.
And looking back now to this day,
That sound was the most beautiful thing I lived today.
In a world that is so painfully predictable and boring,
So overrated and heavily marketed,
The sacred is deeply hidden in plain sight.
After having exhausted the last drop of thinking and overthinking,
And after the mind has become powerlessly quiet,
One can notice what is apparently hidden
Having been already almost unconsciously experienced.
It was there all the time.