joie de l'écriture

Right now I feel as claustrophobic as a thin piece of pepperoni slice inserted between two pieces of stale bread. It’s that feeling of boredom that begins to crawl all over me like a tin of cockroaches popped open on a floor. My mind is behaving like a switch that’s turned off and later refuses to toggle. As I begin to count the imperfections that surround me I realize I have a long drawn list. This is when I feel miserable and home sick for two reasons - because I cannot go home and because I cannot go home. This is also when I have bouts of frustration accompanied by interludes of mood swings to go with a few busts of depression in my otherwise perfectly mundane life. That adds another to my list of perfections. My life manifests the perfection that a Zero embodies. The vignette on my biography, if my life ever ceases to be as uninteresting as it is right now, will undoubtedly have me in one of these moments when I run out of everything under the sun that could keep my mind occupied, so much so that I could be sculpted in time for my motionless and meaningless temporal presence on the face of the earth. Even my spam box is more active than me right now! I envy the animals in the zoo and the flowers in the botanical garden for they are looked at with a lot more awe and admiration than I am appreciated for my honest confessions about my incognizance about life. Sometimes the mind has to deal with the other polar situation when thoughts seethe in your mind like water bubbles in a pot of boiling water; like fractals of thoughts enveloped in an intricate tapestry of uninvited mentations or like a quagmire of cerebrations you plunge into. If only the brain were a muscle, could have sprayed a relaxant!

P.S.: I know I suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder, but it's striking that the text does not budge when I try justifying it...almost like the thoughts in my head!