A rush of blood to the head

Its 17 degrees outside, the air is smoggy and I am breathing ringlets of smoke. I love these mornings…when I sit alone and look outside. Being a late riser, unlike my roommate, I hardly experience this solitude often.

The sun has not risen yet and the street lights are still on. It’s a sublime feeling to watch the city at this time of the day, with no horns honking or noise from the nearest construction site. The silence settles over me like a blanket. The empty streets beckon like an old friend. I can see a cat scurrying by and lone walker pass by, away from the cozy confines of his room and comfortable wraps of his quilt. Its difficult to look beyond the street light, as the road disappears into darkness, but more particularly because of my wretched myopic sight.

I have goose bumps on my arm, it’s not just the chill in the air that’s causing them but the surreal feeling that my surrounding gives me at this hour. It’s like all existence comes to a full stop.

It's been ages i have felt this calm. Not a single distracting thought flitting through my head. No strain of emotion, no wandering reflection on relations; past, present and future, no worries over ambitions, no regrets over the paths taken, things done or left undone, no competition to worry about, no one to dictate or appraise. My existence seems to boil down to the very famous Shakespearean dilemma …”To be or not to be”

Listening to the soulful rendition of a jilted lover…playing over my headphones. I look yonder and imagine, what would it be like not to exist? To fade away into the darkness …to walk away from all the worldly comforts with a backpack and very little money. To trudge the solitary path and not having to look back and wonder, what if?

I am jarred out of my waking trance, by the irate sound of the alarm from my room. It’s time for my roommate to wake up and perform her daily rituals before she heads to college. I know she’ll put the alarm on snooze at least once before she wakes up.

So, I take one last deep breath of the dank air and heave myself out of the chair. It’s time to hit the sack and delve into the abyss of my bizarre dreams, which perhaps even Freud would have a hard time deciphering!