Muddled up

I realize this is going to sound like a broken record. I also realize almost all of you would have had this thought before. And I know that this is the only thing I seem to be talking about these days. P always tells me that writing is a cathartic process.

This is going to be one of those posts.

I do not know when it began. Perhaps it always is an undercurrent of thought that keeps plaguing all of us? One day, out of pure frustration, I asked C - how do people go through their lives? Just working all day, and trying to get sleep? Going through the motions? The sense of deja vu seemed to wash over the both of us. How many times have we asked ourselves the same question? How many generations must have gone through the process of being overwhelmed by the monotonous routines and finally looked up to the skies, or deep into lakes, far across horizons wondering - is this all there is to life? Does everyone feel the way I do? How do I live with myself? How does one cope with this for decades together?

Or maybe people are too busy to stop and think, and drown their thoughts in work, alcohol, smoke, or whatever catches their fancy. Perhaps the fast pace of life catches up to them only when Death is on His way, scythe raised, definitely coming to reap their souls. Is that when people realize - what have I done? Is it too late then?
 Perhaps at that time, one cannot delude oneself into thinking- I do not have time for childhood fancies, I have a life, I must earn my bread.

Is this why people love childhood so much? People seemed much more  - alive then. Every child must go through a billion thoughts each day, and only fading memories of those remain.A child would never sit and think about what was life's point. They would probably be too busy dreaming up things, their imagination having none of the bounds we seem to have.  The very feeling we had of the world, seemed to be much more richer, stronger, confident than whatever it is I seem to experience on a daily basis now. We cling on to those precious, precious feelings, and slowly even those seem to be replaced by the humdrum of routine, the stark darkness of reality.

I digress.
I do not know what is it that I wish to speak of, and even if I did have an inkling, I have no solution to it. However, if you, dear reader , also come to find yourself in a similar boat, wondering, questioning your decisions that seem to have led you up to this point, regretting your state of things, for the simple luxury of being able to think, think and feel like you matter - know that you are not alone. Know that I, and many others go through the exact same motions, and have also got nowhere, and that in this yearning we stand by you, and understand, perhaps better than you might think.

Until next time,
DragonRider