Living or existing?

It’s raining today. I stand in my balcony looking at the rain, listening to a song I am obsessed with right now and all I can think about is how am I going to make it to office tomorrow if it’s gonna rain this much. The only reassurance I get from the rain is it might get the groundwater levels in place and we will get water for some for days this year. I close the door and come back to my room.

I wasn’t this boring always. As a teenager I used to love the rain, well for the most part. Me and my friends used to go and play in the rain everytime we had a chance. I used to get a little upset if my school bag ever got wet from it, but in the confines of my home, I was never scared of it. If not this, I used to listen to my favourite songs while standing in the balcony, romanticizing, enjoying the cool breeze and the few water droplets sprinkled on me by the wind.

I come back to my room, open the window and stand there for a while. I have put blue fairy lights in my room which I never turn on. Seeing the amazing weather outside, I think of just sitting in those dim blue lights, and listen to some good music. But then I think what will I gain out of it, close the window and sit on my bed with my phone,

And then it dawned on me how boring I have become. Boring and sad. And how I have stopped enjoying the small things about life, how I have stopped living. I am merely existing, going to office, getting things done, eating the easiest thing possible to get hands on, going out if someone makes a plan, coming back home, watching something I have already watched because I don’t wanna think too much, sleeping.

Last week I went to get some groceries from a big shopping mart and I had planned to get things for some midnight snacking. I used to do this all the time. But that day, I didn’t get a single thing, not because I am afraid of putting on weight (maybe subconsciously?) but mostly because I didn’t find anything appealing enough, not even those things that earlier I used to find impossible to put down.

People whom I hangout with might say that I am always laughing around (or cribbing, basically reacting and feeling). But I don’t think I am ever happy or sad. I am just there. I don’t remember the last time I was genuinely happy. And that makes me really sad. The worst part, I don’t think I am even feeling this sadness.

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Transitioning to converting my thoughts into blogs from talking to myself about them

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