A boring magical afternoon

As you sit in a cafe, sipping on to your warm delicious watery tea, very bored, looking around dryly, you wonder. What are you bored of? You look at people walking, and going on about their daily lives, very mechanically. What is it? What do you expect them to do? Sing and dance? Kiss and smile? Fly? When all that you do is sit there in your corner with sloth-like eyes, looking like you have given up on everything, tolerating everything for the heck of it. You bloody hypocrite, what do you expect?

You hear words, and watch actions. And you wonder again. About the temporary words spoken, and the meaningless, momentary actions performed. Why speak those words, and do something, when it’s for that moment, just for that moment? You keep on wondering. As words and actions bludgeon your senses, you wonder if they are sane, or if you are sane. Could there be a grey area, where both of you could be sane, or insane, co-existing? You do not want any strength from soft and sweet vocabularies. You do not want strength from hugs and kisses, because those things are not meant for you, those are meant for the doer, who moves on when she is bored of you, and comes back when she wants comfort in comforting you. You seek strength from the nature around, that nature who does not give a fuck about others’ businesses, and keeps doing what she has to everyday. Like a selfish child, you cling on to her.

To keep your sanity, or insanity, intact, you write. And wonder a little more. Is there any magic? Do you need to see actual sparks or go to magic shows to see what magic is? Where is it? People say – hey dumbo, get your grades straight, apply for a job, that’s what life is.

You see people having sex for pleasure, and marrying for emotional security. You wonder why sex is not so much related to love in this world, as much as marriage is. You keep wondering some more. Are you alive because you are in denial that there is no magic, or is it because you know there is magic, when others have given up. You vain you, and you smile smugly. If people think you are wearing rose-tinted glasses, you are crazy enough to tell them, that you will carry those glasses to your grave.

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle” – Albert Einstein.

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