Thoughts at 3am

Sometimes you feel the ache of existing. Every breath you take requires absolute effort, as if you’re dragging it out of an abyss. Every morning takes thirty minutes for your mind to convince your body to move and face the monotonous routine that is your life. It feels horrible. You’re too young to lose your zest to live. To make matters worse, you are not depressed. You don’t even feel anything.

Or maybe that is the root of the problem. You are too complacent. Too comfortable of simply getting by that you cannot tell the difference between the highs and the lows. For you, they are all the same bump in the road you’re resigned to step on so you can get to the other side. And getting to the other side is not a purpose-driven act. You simply want to move. The static pauses now and then drive you crazy. Taking a bath, getting dressed, eating, sleeping – they are all done in mechanical precision. Not timed but they fall into place, day by day.

Numb. That’s how you describe yourself. You are numb. Numb from the sufferings around you. Numb from disappointments. Numb from wanting. Numb from dreams. Numb from any sensations.

And if you think the day is challenging, just wait for the night. Your body wants to sleep so bad it is begging you from nine to twelve to let go and allow dreams to take care of everything, but the clock ticks one and you are still wide awake, staring at the empty ceiling. What are you looking for? A sign? An insight? Enlightenment? A myriad of thoughts swirl in your head. Hopeless. It is hopeless to dwell in them. You try to swim and reach the shore, but the current takes you back to bedlam. You do not have the strength to fight so you let it carry you aimlessly. On and on it goes until you find yourself roused by the sound of the alarm.

It is six in the morning. The building dread creates havoc in your stomach. Here it goes again.

The cycle of nauseating routine begins.