Strange to sleep so many hours. Something out of sync always worries me. Evening nap should be short. Not for three hours straight. And the nightmare created by the roommates is another headache. The thought to help out, but it keeps on skipping. The meeting is violent and rude. The second night is nice, but the situation is not suitable. And it was nicely moved to reach the destination. To find the solution. That is a good feeling, though.

They got sick, due to the season. Nothing can be done. But she is so violent, like a storm. How cute to see the storm when it is little. Can’t talk about the matured storm here. And it took us up, swirled, and put us down all of a sudden. We hate them, until it takes us up again. That was a wonderful ride.

I made it look like a desktop. The day-old coffee, yet nice to have it. It is more than a pain in the arse. And the coconut oil, spilled everything; we move our fingers. I was so into the bread halwa. Tempted. But I can’t go and ask, right? She felt uncomfortable. I felt it. And all their intention to find out the perverts, and it seems they exist everywhere. What a pervert I am, and you as well. It’s all in the head, and who knows the truth. If you read Dostoevsky, you know the truth. I hate that anyways.

And the other guy was in need of company. Was looking for me, but silently he judged everything, and moved in a way that will work. The cunningness with the smiling face. And the other is simply doing his stuff all by himself. He watches movies, eats, and sleeps. Not an issue. And me, I come, read, watch movies, sleep, and come to the office. I’m nothing, I guess. No, I’m Nothing, I confirm. We all are nothing. I know. But how to tell people that you are nothing? Can anyone understand?

Can I pick the people who read literature, who have a similar taste in books like mine, and say in the face that you are nothing? Will they accept it? No. No one cares. They might be thinking of the dinner. Or cricket. Or cinema. It’s just words to them. They can’t get the meaning that is hidden inside the words ‘YOU ARE NOTHING’. Even I don’t know why I came to the conclusion that I’m Nothing, and does that mean that every time I will be in the same thought, to think that I’m Nothing? And on the other hand, if I like to be Nothing, and for that case, will I be able to keep on thinking the same thought which resulted in concluding that I’m Nothing? But I’m Nothing, that I can assure you. You got assured or not, I don’t care, but you too are Nothing, and me too—Mothing.

Ok, now what is Mothing, by the way? Moth? A moth is a feathery, scaled-winged creature like a butterfly. There might exist thousands or lakhs of moths. But no one cares about moths. They are similar to butterflies. But UGLY. I might watch moths. It is their season. In my house, when it is raining, and the dark clouds cover the landscape, and the light gets dim by the moths that are attracted for that night, thousands can be seen. They get high on the white light, and dance for the whole day, and die in the early morning, and are fed by the ants and other stuff. It is once in a year you can see such an orchestra.

The ants that sacrificed their nest to the lord, and in return, He sends the moths, and they watch from the distance, the show, until sunrise, and they start their journey, piling up and dragging them to the nest, which is ready for the next cycle. And they get rewards for their prayers. The ants are grateful for their lord and raise a big mud nest for him. They were happy. I like to watch this Mothing. Such a good watch.