The Prologue
Concerning the idiosyncrasies of anyone, when unusualness lingers around for a long while,
it turns to abnormality; Of late, signs of cheerfulness has dissolved itself into nothingness and obsolescence prevails.
The Monologue
You know, it has been a while... since
I
Smiled at myself in the mirror.
Whistled or sang a note or two of my favorite tunes.
Listened to any of the songs in my collection.
Discovered any new music.
Wondered about the clouds, the sky, the moon, and the stars.
Enjoyed a good dose of the breeze caressing me.
Or
since I wrote or even attempted to...
And
It has been a while since all these thoughts
dawned on me, and...
I still do not want to do any of these,
or even if I did,
It fails to enthuse me.
So,
am I ageing or are these the usual signs of depression
looming around on my birthday eve?
P.S.: Will they let me fool around if I blame writer's block even if I have not thought about writing at all, forget not being able to move my thoughts or wanting to write?
P.P.S.: In fact, I feel like calling it quits; but don't know at what...!.
