Bored with existence

I dont know how my hours are spent. Everyday slips into the next, eventless and vague. I cant recall anything I did yesterday or the day before or a week ago. I find myself hypnotized and stupefied by the TV noise and the colours are a blur. The calendar shows me a stretch of days, a stretch of time with repeated movement that constitute of feeding myself and sleeping. Bored with existence.

I stare at the screen, waiting for it to light up. A part of me believes you miss me but I wonder who will break first. You or me? The thought of showing my weakness in front of you is the only thing that is keeping me from dialling your number. My ego wont allow me that luxury. How long will your resolve last? I stare at the screen and wonder.

When I had convinced myself of your insignificance and bolted all doors in your face, all it took was a simple reference of ‘aap’ to remind me of you.

To Dazed, with love: Some days, I could just wring your neck and walk away.

A year. 12 months. Seems centuries ago. Sees like happened to somebody else. All that remains is a dull ache. Like a forgotten ailment, that hurts every once in a while to remind you of its existence. Pulsates in the background. Instead stands a gaping hole. 12 months and counting.