It's been a long time, a very long time, since the last time I had this urge to write something about nothing.
Yes, this is a familiar feeling. I remember those good times when words just easily came out of mind with appreciable depth, meaning and impact on others' lives. Now those words just sunk in daily routines, exactly like hands of a clock that are bound forever in the same dot can never touch anything beyond the 12 numbers.
Where are those times go? Where is the muse that drove me enlightened? Am I actually become a bored and boring adult now? I'm longing for those salad days; fresh and easily rotten, short-minded and adventurous.
Nowadays, I go for work for 10-12 hours. Get home and too tired for anything but facebook and sleep. Weekends without sparks and excitement.
I once dreamed to become a pilot; to be completely free and defy even gravity; to sip the drops of cloud, to see beyond the horizon. That dream, even in it's most vaguest form, light something in my bones.
But dream is the other side of the coin of reality, right? The fact that I'm now a full member of society, an adult with a permanent job, is the reality. The one who flies beyond sky is in the parallel universe.
Its 2 a.m. now. I need to start my aircraft and take-off from this world.
