We..

Among the gazillions of things that vexes me, one of the most suffocating is the perpetual state of torpidity. An empty, dysfunctional brain is a devil's workshop ( or studio maybe), and although I am vaguely unaware of the veracity of this age old adage, in my case it appears that such predictions of human tendencies and behavioral traits aren't a complete hoax. Making optimum use of leisure or in simple words ' unoccupied time'   is  simply not my cup of tea. Some people are highly productive by nature, and  phrases like'' killing time'' is permanently effaced form their dictionaries. Call them workaholics or busybodies, they tend to find joy in working tirelessly and relentlessly, without as much space to even breath properly. They enjoy juggling piles of workload, tackling formidable challenges, analyzing, extrapolating and solving complex problems, Be it the last minute presentation that needs to be completed in one day's notice, or the esoteric contents of a tortuous contract that needs deciphering into simple, comprehensive language or maybe the God-knows- how- many- pages elaborate report that demands undisputed concentration- they are able to handle everything at once. The essence of multitasking attributes to being in the middle of a whirlpool, and escaping unscathed, thanks to one's fortuitous fate.On the other hand feckless malingeres like me, have all the time in the world, and if time was literally gold, we would be on the Forbes list of decoarted billoinaires. With an abundance of time to facilitate our indolence and endorse our cavalier, we let the unconquerable tides of time engulf us, when the rest of the world engages in a perennial race. It is we, who learn to live in the moment, instead of pondering and procrastinating over the past, or maybe rigorously planning a perfect future. To us, every raindrop is as precious as the millions preceeding it. We  cherish the rebellious breeze ruffling our unkempt tresses like the last one to do so, and the laughter, banter shared with our loves ones, because we know that such prized moments  are intangible and can never be recreated, and will be instantaneously lost amidst the countless, infinite memoirs. We can lose ourselves in the intoxicating fragrance of roses, indulge  in that succulent piece of black forest without thinking twice about the perilous impacts of the gancache on our waistline, relish our favourite ice cream flavors, regardless of the plummeting mercury level. We are sybaritics, 'happiness hunters''. We smile as if immune to grief, we listen  to our wild hearts encased in ribacages, not for the sake of pacifying, but because we love to. We dare to think like there's no box, act as if there's no future and are  blessed with the audacity to speak our minds. We are invincible, tempestuous and impulsive.We are perfectly imperfect and beautifully broken, resembling an irreristible disaster.
We suffer quietly, behind closed doors, obliterating the sounds of our muffled cries and erasing the tear marks. Yet we live..
 And not just exist..