闲人

The night grows quiet as sleep falls upon each living being, save the uni students. In the final hours before sunset, I struggle to search for something satisfying before I go to bed. So I blog.

Life tends to find it's own balance. When your life is fraught with disasters little respites bring you relief. When it's a bed of roses, normalcy feels hard to bear. At the end of the project lies a little satisfaction and yet, also a little emptiness. Empty days filled with empty time. Or is it the emptiness of a life occupied by one cycle after another, project after project, followed by completion, followed by emptiness, followed by the endless search of something that you think would be sufficient after the last satisfaction turned out to be too brief, too small.

Someone said he wants a goal which he can never achieve, so he has something to work towards until he dies. I... want the same.

So we toil.