it is a weird sense of anxiety, too much optimization of time only to sleep for hours thinking what i have missed, which part of the trick is left, where is that corner of the puzzle, and what am i looking for, so close to the picture that i hear the voices of paintbrush strokes, but don't see the mountains, the water is everywhere but i don't see the river. doesn't make much sense, okay, then what does, what actually makes sense? the single dimensional, single threaded, fucked up human being trying to be everything he can be and not being able to be anything. what actually do you want? the obsession doesn't let you sleep, not being obsessed doesn't let you sleep. how the fuck do you sleep? only when you are tired enough not to think, the thought dies, and the body hits a sweet tempo of acceptance. okay, here it is, what i was looking for the absolute death of my thoughts, no humming of words trying to order themselves to make sense, predicting the words one after another only to get tired of reshuffling. usually this is what happens when you confuse excellence with happiness, ability to do things with the ability to be happy about doing them. when everything is a competition, and you feel like you can win them all, yet you see yourself daily losing to time, you feel old, but you never felt young, you are wise, but you don't remember when you were stupid. maybe you were always wiser for your age at least you believed it wholeheartedly but did it help? did it help letting the child die early? looks like it did, at least based on the money you make it looks like that, well not enough for the adult, he probably wants more, more than he can consume. he can derive that number given enough time and an excel sheet, but the kid, he would have been happy. the kid would have been happy in the morning itself when, instead of choosing between five star and dairy milk, you were able to buy both, and it was no big deal. but the kid is not here, he is dead, probably died a long time back and the adult is never happy. the adult wants to save the world, the adult believes in science but wants to be closest to the modern day god, a rich fucking capitalist with everything at his disposal. does he really want it? well, ask him on a thursday evening and there is nothing more than a friday evening he wants. what he wants changes, it changes in the form of a periodic movement, more of a circle never the same, but given enough time you can make an attempt to try to count all the states. the cool yet so sad thing is there is a very small list of needs, which he never cares about. wants are pricey glittery stars, they take up all the space, and what's left is barely enough for the breathing human being. i feel i have no idea what i am and what i want to be, and not knowing both of these is a sure shot sign of stupidity, because what else matters in life? the real sign of intelligence itself is you knowing who you are and what you want to be, and when you don't know both you are more of a schrödinger's cat, is she dead or alive? it is more of a question about who has the guts to open the box. it's no more about the cat, the cat died a long time back all that is left is a story which is half told. the idea that everything is a process, that people do realise their strengths and weaknesses over a period of time, they understand what works for them and what doesn't and they do get a fair idea of who they are and what they want to be seems like a cope. i don't see anyone, not a single individual, doesn't matter, a 30 year old or a 40 year old, who is sure about who he is. the theory doesn't seems to stand its ground. people are in a cycle, a cycle of winning or losing but there is no one who, i see, can look from the top and say, hey, it looks like a spiral, or hey, the geometry does seem to take you forward. no one. everything is a medical grade copium. it's a way to make people go through the terror of life, it's nothing more than that. weirdly, it helps individuals get by the years or even lifetimes, but there is no glory in it. but then who was searching for the glory? at the end, everyone was trying to make sense of the cards they were dealt.

bye the thoughts are almost dead and i can finally see the sleep coming my way.