Zen of Boredom

Waiting for the zen of boredom and indifference to change to content, to peace. Feeling a stirring in my gut that can only mean that something is changing inside of my disposition, and I don’t know why. Only to be greeted by a crash of ice cold water to every invasive crevice of my body. Only to be met with the mocking laughter of ‘anything is possible’. Feeling sad doesn’t remind me I’m alive, it reminds me how much better aliveness is for thy neighbor. Reminds me that the person to my left and to my right could die tomorrow. Reminds me that the only other possibility is dying before watching the zen of boredom change to the hysteria of horror. Forcing myself to care about my internal problems, while vomiting and screaming over things I can’t change. Getting angrier when these issues get labeled as ‘bigger than me’. Making myself bigger only to be realized that everything I am using to become greater is false. False hope, false statements, false words. Then becoming too tired to care. Once again waiting for the zen of boredom to change to content, to peace.