I woke up to suddenly from my sleep to see it was 2.14 am. I wriggled, tossed, turned, and tried to sleep back again….and strangely I did not want to sleep at all. I felt better without needing to sleep more.
I guess I have come to realize that it is mostly physical exhaustion that gets worn away by sleep. Mental stress and exhaustion just needs peace: the silencing of the never-ending pandemonium both within and without. I realize that seeing, reading or coming face to face with death does not make me more anxious about living life.
Existing or rather, surviving during difficult times like these makes one more anxious.
Death seems like a welcome relief from the monotony and absurdity of existence.
As my body was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling in the dark, I could hear the sound of the fan, the beating of my heart and the crickets chirping. In that surreal moment I realized the distinction between the passive body on the floor, and the active mind making sense of all that is going on. And as soon as I realized this, I saw the break of dawn from the slight opening from the window. I get to survive/exist/live another day. All the different streams of thoughts just pass by. Strangely, my mind feels at peace and is calm. Living between the sunrise and sunsets, everyday life passes by.