Idle in March

It is my inherent belief that we must always be working to achieve something in order to justify our existence on this planet. If we are not engrossed in some task or the other, our lives seem meaningless... the days seem long and the nights, empty. 

It is a proven fact that lethargy destroys the mind, body and soul. And so we put ourselves through trial after trial, forever driven to accomplish the things beyond our reach. We are never satisfied and it is never enough... atleast until we reach the point of finding it all to be overwhelming, draining and worst of all, monotonous. 

We then start wishing that we could be satisfied with being idle and desiring nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and quit our jobs and all our obligations. 

To be nameless and faceless and spend our days lying on a beach somewhere, with good tunes in our ears and the sand nestled beneath our toes. 

And so I wished and I received. The price: a knee injury that has no intention of healing anytime soon. So I lie here, day in and day out, staring up at my vacant ceiling. Contemplating. Despairing. 

Longing to be back on my feet and out in the world, grinding myself to the bone, just to feel something within me again.