Fly away, my thoughts....

Even though i have a more than abundant supply of books now, thanks to freecycle, i had another attack of the blues. It was more 'the blacks' than the blues. Do i make sense? No. But then, no one expects me to, least of all, myself.

Sometimes, it is scary how my thoughts hold me at ransom. They go on a rampage, pulling down the shutters on my smiles, zipping up my lips, painting a mist on my eyes. Am i one of those suffering from 'manic depression'? Or maybe i am a hypochondriac? Or maybe, i am just mad, sad or bad?

i keep thinking about, what else but my pet topic, the meaning of life. Is there a meaning to all of this? What use is money, position or whatever that we hanker for in life? i would just be as happy in a village growing cauliflowers as i would be sitting in a cubicle writing lines of code that could/would break or be eaten by bugs, maybe happier. What do i want in life? Why do i worry about things that don't need to be worried about? Why do i search for meanings in the clouds above, in the dead leaves that flutter down? Why can't i find happiness in the ordinary things that people revel in?

How quickly the years pass by. It scares me knowing i will die one day without having found any answers to the questions that gnaw away at the back of my mind. So many years feeding these thoughts and still, they refuse to be appeased. They ask me "But, is that the meaning of life? Is this what you are searching for?". They refused to be fooled.

Oh, how i so wanted to be a butterfly but i know i will die a caterpillar. Now, that is a truth, if ever there was one.