I sit here, wondering which course I’ll end up dropping from the semester, with pictures from my laptop flashing by the TV screen, comfortable in my chair, and I wonder what the hell I’m doing typing on this damn keyboard.
I realize, then, the reason of expression is that I enjoy the silence of my family sleeping peacefully, with no responsibilities because I’m off, and I just want to be. Not live speedily, or write any code, or think at all. I don’t feel like doing anything. I’m not sad, or angry, or lonely, though at times I can be any of those things like any other person. I’m equally not happy or excited or pleased, though I am these things very often. There’s no greater meaning to how I feel at all, really. I’m currently just content with the way I’m sitting, pondering, observing.
The light from my lamp gives off a warm glow to the rest of my room, but the light of my desk is sharper, more awake. The TV went to sleep just now. The shadows that the dim lighting gives off provides a grey gradient across my keyboard. A christmas tune pops into my head. I’m relaxed, my brain is void, and though I’ve always known it somehow, only one thing is truly apparent beyond the need to express myself, even if only to myself: downtime is just perfect at this moment.
Before the hustle and bustle of the city tomorrow, and the endless friend and family gatherings of the coming week and year, right now none of it is important. All that matters is that my brain is slowly sleeping itself because it has no other tasks to do. It feels good, really good. And there must be something healthy about it if only by the way my muscles have completely relaxed.
I don’t like writing without purpose, but really I typed my way into this one after not knowing why I had begun. I suppose the most concrete idea in my brain right now is something along the lines of “relaxation and serenity are just as important as socialization and emotion,” except I’m too calm to figure out proper synonyms at this hour.