Something woke him up, and the clock said it's just 2 O'clock after midnight. He looked at the cell notifications, and gave out a sigh. He knew, he was fucked. Now, there's no way he could attend the morning meeting, and even if somehow he could, it would be a zombie barely looking alive at the office.
He always imagined that he'd have a perfect life, and after having it, he'd realized it wasn't perfect. It was as if he dreamed wrong. He used to cheer himself up whenever things would go south, by saying 'i just woke up on the wrong side of the bed', and now he felt as if he woke up to the wrong side of the life.
He rose, and went to the balcony, and on the way grabbed a can of beer from refrigerator. Holding that can made him laugh, cause it was only the beginning of the Monday. Apparently the breeze was pleasent, and the city was asleep.
Taking few sips at a time, he kept thinking about a question which was haunting him for long. "What do you want to do in life?", A question, he could never understand properly. He always felt that too much intelligence causes too much confusion. It's easy for a sparrow to decide what it wants, cause its needs and expectations are already defined, and nature equipped it with necessary skills to meet those expectations.
But this isn't the case with humans, at least who has some level of intelligence, people who are capable of thinking, who just don't follow blindly. Such people question everything comes to their mind, even their needs. And they fall from heights to realize that life isn't just a job, or marriage, or just survival.
But once this realization, there's an unsolved question waiting. If life isn't these simple things, then what's life is about? And that's what he was thinking while watching the moon. He had everything in life which anyone would define as perfect. And yet, days haunted him, nights gave him nightmares, cause there was some restlessness, he couldn't fathom.
While running up the infinite spiral staircase of thoughts, he got tired, and just gave up. Finished the rest of the beer, and looked at the dark sky above. And kept wondering, if everything feels pointless, why am I alive? Is there even any purpose? Or am I just a combination of molecules, got created while randomness of universe was expanding.
He knew it was time to try to sleep again, as he couldn't miss the meeting. He knew, it was gonna be a disaster, and yet he would made it out alive, as always. He knew he was blessed with the gift of 'survival without effort'.
He closed his eyes, and hoped, probably tomorrow something would happen which would make him realize his purpose. A false hope, at least.
He always imagined that he'd have a perfect life, and after having it, he'd realized it wasn't perfect. It was as if he dreamed wrong. He used to cheer himself up whenever things would go south, by saying 'i just woke up on the wrong side of the bed', and now he felt as if he woke up to the wrong side of the life.
He rose, and went to the balcony, and on the way grabbed a can of beer from refrigerator. Holding that can made him laugh, cause it was only the beginning of the Monday. Apparently the breeze was pleasent, and the city was asleep.
Taking few sips at a time, he kept thinking about a question which was haunting him for long. "What do you want to do in life?", A question, he could never understand properly. He always felt that too much intelligence causes too much confusion. It's easy for a sparrow to decide what it wants, cause its needs and expectations are already defined, and nature equipped it with necessary skills to meet those expectations.
But this isn't the case with humans, at least who has some level of intelligence, people who are capable of thinking, who just don't follow blindly. Such people question everything comes to their mind, even their needs. And they fall from heights to realize that life isn't just a job, or marriage, or just survival.
But once this realization, there's an unsolved question waiting. If life isn't these simple things, then what's life is about? And that's what he was thinking while watching the moon. He had everything in life which anyone would define as perfect. And yet, days haunted him, nights gave him nightmares, cause there was some restlessness, he couldn't fathom.
While running up the infinite spiral staircase of thoughts, he got tired, and just gave up. Finished the rest of the beer, and looked at the dark sky above. And kept wondering, if everything feels pointless, why am I alive? Is there even any purpose? Or am I just a combination of molecules, got created while randomness of universe was expanding.
He knew it was time to try to sleep again, as he couldn't miss the meeting. He knew, it was gonna be a disaster, and yet he would made it out alive, as always. He knew he was blessed with the gift of 'survival without effort'.
He closed his eyes, and hoped, probably tomorrow something would happen which would make him realize his purpose. A false hope, at least.
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