I had time to start reading a book today; one that was generously gifted to me by a complete stranger.

It’s not often that I find time to indulge in perceived frivolities. And it’s important to get lost in stuff that doesn’t matter sometimes isn’t it?

I’ve often felt an overwhelming need to escape the incessant thoughts that linger in my mind when I’m not busy –  and having a sliver of time to read a book about psychic psychology is a healthier escape than helping myself to a fourth glass of wine, one might argue.

I prefer to indulge in tandem… when I find the time.

I can’t say for certain what I’ve read. I find myself reading the same sentence five or six times before I can move on to the next. It’s not that I’m trying to process what I’ve just read; rather that I didn’t care much for what the words were the first four times.

Maybe I’m just not that into it.

But still, I escape every once in a while.

I find myself increasingly sensitive to the vibrations of others instead of building thicker armour. It’s kind of depressing to know how many people harbour ill-will and dark intention.

Actually, it’s exhausting.

When I was younger, I saw everyone in  yellow and orange; today most of them are grey.

Maybe it was childlike optimism, or maybe I see clearer now.

Maybe I’ve just become jaded.

I come from a long line of people that yearned to escape.

I’m hyper-aware that I’m one of the last ones standing.

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