Time has stopped

I have just lived over a quarter of century and crawled approaching my 30s. Time flies, huh? Yet today feels really weird though. In fact, not just today but yesterday’s night seemed endless. It felt like the time wasn’t moving at all, like a thousand year old corpse, or the clock hanging on the wall in my room which I never intend to replace its batteries. The clock always shows that now it’s 1 o’clock. And the clock hand that shows the second never leaves number 9, hoovering just above it slightly.

Now it’s barely lunch time but it is as if I had just come out of a 30-year solitary confinement.

In the morning, I rose up early, partly because I felt the intense need to clean myself up, you know, ladies holiday’s stuff. Then I had breakfast… Climbing upstairs to be back in my room after – checking my mobile – nothing substantial.

I tried to do advanced yoga nidra, thinking I could just murder this endless turtle-like day. It was just about 1.5 hours, well sure I could be awake throughout the period. But I was wrong! I overestimated my ability to remain aware. I fell asleep and ironically woke up just after 1 hour had passed. But it felt too long already.

I went out of the house this morning for awhile. I did a bit of yoga drills. That should have killed my time but they didn’t. Now it’s barely lunch time but it is as if I had just come out of a 30-year solitary confinement.

I couldn’t emphasise enough that time is really weird today. My moods have not been the best too. I have essentially lost interest in even the silliest things that should have made me addicted. I logged out of my social media accounts. I felt heavy. It is as if I am waiting. But what am I waiting for? Death? Love? Somebody to reach me out? Some being to rescue me from this boring life?

I was reading Woolf’s the Waves just now – a beautiful book full of beautiful words but I found it too overwhelming for my depressed mind. There were too many characters to remember. I found it hard to concentrate and remember their traits, looks and everything. You know, writings are only in words. The rest is in your imagination. And I have just lost it. The creative and imaginative sparks which I confidently thought I possess, were no longer there. Maybe they’re buried somewhere inside my brain. I don’t know.

I feel lost. Some days are just hard like this. Some are easier to navigate. I hope tomorrow will be better. Please life, be kind to my fragile self.