BURNING HOUSE

Once said that the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. Did I reach there?  I feel so. As if I am struggling to keep myself interested. To keep myself in this house and in this relation and this family. It has become a struggle. An uphill effort that keeps me from enjoying. Keeps me from wanting to wakeup in the morning. Keeps me from an ability to smile. To feel light. Rather sarcastic. Empty. As if there is a vacuum inside of me. No energy to take me through. No desire to smile or play or even accept or deliver a joke. I became too serious. Too ridiculous. Too isolated from the happening to the emptiness. Looking with a cold eye to what is surrounding me; to the supposedly happy events to mean more commitment and more work and more soul-level effort. 'I can't handle all that', I tell myself. Not that i am ungrateful but because I am really bored. 

Bored from him. From her. From them. From me. Not even interested in explaining what happened. Not hopeful for a solution. Treat it with the same inner sarcasm or scepticism I developed around us. This concept that was created once a decade ago. Dissolved and took a different shape. Not interested in reviving it again. It was a figment of our own imagination that no one is interested in reviving it again. What for?


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