Tired of the same things

 

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Read more from the original author:
Ham Meerah – Medium

I got out of bed around 6 p.m.

Yes. 6 p.m.

At this point, breakfast had become a historical event. I had eaten it in bed, because apparently plates were invented specifically for people who have decided standing up is a personal attack.

I hadn't brushed my teeth either.

My phone had been in my hand for hours. Hours. And the funniest part?

I was bored of it.

I was scrolling through the same apps I’d already scrolled through three times, watching videos I wasn’t even interested in, refreshing pages as if the internet was going to suddenly announce

BREAKING NEWS: We have finally found something entertaining for her.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I looked at the time and somehow it was 6 p.m. I genuinely felt betrayed.

How is it 6 p.m.?

I swear I had only been in bed for a few minutes. Time had apparently been running a secret marathon while I was lying there doing absolutely nothing.

Sometimes I feel like we need more hours in the day. And more hours at night too.

Maybe 24 hours just isn’t enough. We need the deluxe version. The 36 hour day. Preferably with an extra 12 hours that nobody can use to assign me work. After finally dragging myself out of bed, I went for a walk.

And that's when I started thinking about comfort.

What actually is comfort?

Is comfort having nothing to do?

Is it lying in bed all day with your phone, eating, sleeping and refusing to participate in society?

Because if that's the definition, I should be one of the most comfortable people alive.

I had spent so long waking up ridiculously early, working night shifts and basically negotiating with my body about whether it was going to cooperate with me that when I finally got a few days where I didn't have to do anything, I thought I had won.

I thought I had hit the jackpot.

Freedom , No alarm, No rushing No work.

No one telling me where I had to be.

Just me, my bed and peace.

And for the first day, it was glorious.

By the third day, my bed and I were in a toxic relationship.

I was tired of looking at it.

I was tired of my phone.

I was tired of the ceiling.

At some point, I started staring at random objects in my room like they were going to develop personalities.

I don't want to work hard jobs that suck the life out of me.

But apparently, I also don’t want to lie in bed all day. Fantastic.

So what exactly do I want?

I don't want to be on my phone all day either. I'm already sick of it.

But let's be serious.

If someone took my phone away from me, I would probably spend the first ten minutes pretending I didn't care.

Then I would start pacing.

Then I would check my pockets.

Then I would accuse everyone in the house of stealing it.

And food?

I'm tired of food.

Not food itself.

Just the food I've been eating.

There is only so many times you can eat the same thing before your taste buds start filing complaints. Sometimes I look at my food and think, We’ve done this before.

I need something new.

Give me something I have never tasted before. Something that makes me pause after the first bite and reconsider every meal I’ve eaten for the last five years. I amtired of my music too. I have listened to so many genres that sometimes I put my headphones on and just sit there.

Nothing.

No emotional connection.

No goosebumps.

No sudden urge to stare dramatically out of a window.

Just silence.

And my ears have started hurting anyway, so maybe they've officially resigned.

And then there's the world around me.

I want to go somewhere beautiful.

Somewhere with colour.

Somewhere green.

Somewhere with water.

Somewhere where I can look around and think, Oh. So the world actually looks like this?

Because where I am right now feels grey, dark, dry and painfully boring.

Everything looks like it needs a little water and a vacation.

Maybe I do too.

And I think that's what I was feeling that evening.

I wasn't just bored.

I was restless.

I wanted to experience something.

Because comfort can't just be the absence of discomfort.

It can't only mean staying in bed because nobody is asking anything from you.

I think I confused rest with doing nothing.

And they're not the same thing.

Rest is supposed to give something back to you.

Doing nothing for too long can start taking things away.

Your sense of time.

Your curiosity.

Your excitement.

Maybe even your desire to get out of bed.

I don't want to work myself into the ground.

But I don't want to rot in bed either.

I don't want to spend my entire life staring at a screen that I'm already bored of, eating food I've already eaten too many times, listening to music I've already heard and waiting for the day to end.

I think I want something in between.

Maybe I just need more life inside the hours I already have.

See you tomorrow with something new!

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