Scrambled Thoughts

I look around our house on a Tuesday night. Skipped work.

'Sometimes I feel my imagination and reality overlaps too much that I am having difficulty what to believe anymore.'

"Is the world different? Or is it me who's different?" I silently asked myself.

After a few moments of reflection: "No, it's the world that is different, perhaps too different to comprehend."

I sip my coffee. Currently, I mix coffee with soymilk. It provides me with my needed caffeine boost as well as my protein consumption.

I place the mug on the wooden table.

There seems to be no purpose of this post. But I start typing nevertheless.

Slowly and quietly the lateness of the night is being coated with the break of dawn. Crickets and lizards stopped making noises only they can understand.

A tricycle hovers outside looking for passengers.

"Tough luck," I smirked.

I really hate being unproductive. The semestral break did just that.

Now my thoughts linger profusely. Continuously.

I hate it.

I'd like to try parkour. It seems exhilarating and exciting. Dangerous but it could be worth a try.

Every now and then I wish my thought organization would mature. It seems to regress every now and then. I could be systematic the other minute and explosive on the next.

Like I said, I hate being unproductive.

Finally, I sip my last concoction and breathed deeply.

The world may be different, but I am too. I realized.