Too much time can drive you mad. And it is okay to have nothing to do. But we live in a time where nothingness is equated with lifelessness.
When you let your thoughts wonder everywhere, like meditation it will begin with everything, until you reach nothing. An emptiness and a blank spaces with only one constant, breathing.
Idleness pushes you into your corners but slowly you learn to make a home there. You tuck in and sip hot soup.
And I let my thoughts wonder around like helium balloons stuck under a ceiling, waiting for the open. Strange anxiety fills in.
If your own black cat crosses your path, is it still unlucky?
When we find love in each other through common hate. Is it still love?
Preparation and planning corrupts free flow. Can we ever bring ourselves to the unfamiliarity, like that of first love?
One more tea to wash it down, then its okay if I am not found.
To be continue.