Monday, 24 September 2012

Migrating Fox

It's been dull, rainy all day; just the way I love it. But I spent most of the day inside anyway. I was at work. It always sucks to go back to work after a holiday.. Even when the holidays aren't long (like mine, usually short and sweet!!). The days are getting shorter, it's already getting dark outside now, and it's just almost seven in the evening. It's poker night tonight. I don't really know why I keep attending poker nights. It seems so vague, so shallow and empty. But somehow they fill up an entire evening almost every week. Some part of all that experience even fuels me.. in a way that can not be explained. My holiday was so short, but it seems like I was gone for at least two weeks. I am so recharged, a part of me has reborn, and I feel like an entirely new being. I can feel my pulse, and I can feel myself living, rather than existing. But my job brings me down. To be straight forward, my job is depressing to it's last molecule. Every bit of it is plain sad. I try to be positive, but I realize how pathetic it feels. I live for little things, the things that step by step are losing meaning, step by step my priorities change. And I often find myself at a state where I do not care about anything at all. There are moments where nothing has meaning, I feel as if life is an empty shall that simply lies on the shore, waiting to be washed away. What is life really? Is it a game? Or is it a book, that has already been written? I don't know how I view the concept of life.

Life is fiction..

Is it?

Wicklow Mountains

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