Blank

Sometimes you want to close your eyes and see nothing.
It isn't really the blackest of your days, but your senses fail you. Nothing seems to be right, though it's all correct. The complete opposite of those days when everything seems to go wonky in the eyes of the world but you know it'll be okay. Not one of those days, today. Worked hard, that's it. People smiled at what I wrote. Okay. Laughed at my jokes. Ha ha ha. So what's new, or different?
Politically, I'm appreciated. But I really haven't found my real company where I'm hooding nowadays. Like school time when I had Vishal, he made me rack my brains till they were drenched of thought. Or Pushkar in junior college, intelligent debates. Or Collin, subconscious eyeopener with the right terms for everything.
Or Manasi, who keeps me on my toes waiting to catch up with something that'll quench my thirst for criticism.
I love my festival, but it doesn't give me the adrenalin drive. I'm in dire need of competition, or spark'll be stomped off.
I'm wrenching open the eyelids, waiting for light to fall on the retina. But That's compromise. Can't fiery inspiration come without dropping expectations?
I'm done for the day, but open for someone to shake me out of my elongated snooze.