The difficulties...

So, having nothing else left for me to do, I got started on Cometh the Hour, but very gradually and cautiously. You see, office was extremely hectic today. Office that happened after about a week and a half of hiatus. I couldn't get any time to find out other stop gap solutions. There's even more work to do, for at least two more days I'd remain almost buried in work. But what work is there at home after you've had dinner and retired for the day. So I stealthily opened the book. It feels like eating something dry and hard with an already parched throat. I keep feeling restless in between and looking for water - aka sad songs. That the characters are familiar enough helps, that some of them happen to have fairy tale love stories doesn't help. In between I arrange my things a bit, maintain and update the to do list. I keep forgetting things, or perhaps I'm too much unmindful and troubled. The perfectionist in me keeps me going...although the world seems a painful dark empty place. I get bouts of desire, to live, only to be forced to return to my apparent zombie-ism.

A book, I'm trying to read a book for God's sake, my favorite past time, something that has kept me alive all these days. Who knew even that could be this difficult. This is what happens to you when your favorite person doesn't bother to stay in your life, even virtually...

Pointless to fight, tooth and nail, for mere consumer rights, in such a state of mind. But the fighter in me hasn't learnt to give up without a good enough combat. I end up writing bitter, stern mails to the authorities. They'd probably laugh and toss those in the bin. Doesn't really matter. Even if they happen to entertain my complaints, it won't really give me any satisfaction. A zombie doesn't react or feel happiness. Similarly, I'm just reading the book for the story to end. I don't feel any excitement or apprehension about the plot. I, who usually takes pleasure in becoming a part of the anecdote. This is no way of reading a book...neither is this any way of living a life, mind you. It feels that June has come early this year. I'm mourning...as if...or maybe simply yearning to die?