Distractions

A train ride without a book is boredom. A mind without a thought is empty. A soul without an aim is confusing. A person staring at strange faces at ordinary places is lost. Staring into space for two hours is not rewarding, in fact the whole journey home lengthens and becomes one long weary ride home devoid of any life. It's like a scene out of a grey movie, Derry and mundane, lacking the vitality of colored films and mystique of black and white films. Lately my mind has been preoccupied, with desires and thoughts in which roots are undetermined, authenticity awaiting validation. I'm terrified of it,I'm avoiding it, but like a boomerang it keeps hitting me face front. Somehow in the depths of my heart I know this all stems from nothingness. And yet I keep yearning after it, defying my past principles of life( real lame, actually, such as not being caught up in the social media frenzy as everyone, opting to use emails to communicate, preferring solitude solely because everyone prefers companionship- I'm weird, I know) just to get a glimpse, a glimmer of hope or just to cure that itch. I never seem to be able to achieve that target though. Yes, there were sweet consolation prizes along the way but it's not a sufficient substitute. That dull throbbing ache of disappointment is still present. This all sounds stupid now that I've written it down. Yes, I shall try to scrape this distraction away from my mind. Proactive, proactive. Put on your glasses and see the world clearly, for what it is.