What do you do when you have too much time in your hands, but zero will, or ability to do anything at all? You have all the time in the world and beyond, yet you just sit by and watch people around you move on. You are tired of this nothingness, so you sleep. You can't sleep good at night, so you wake up tired, yearning to sleep. It runs like a vicious circle; there is no escape.
You try a lot to escape, though. You try to take vacations and one-day getaways. And they surely do not help. You cannot enjoy the trip because of the thoughts from the stressful life you have temporarily left behind plague your mind and ruin your peaceful escape. And once you are back, tired, ironically, you groan out, as the life you had let go for a day or week, grabs you by the neck and thrusts on you all that you left incomplete.
What have you left incomplete? Everything. You seek for a vertical intervention to help you alleviate this burden. Weaklings call this intervention God. You call Him on his hotline. He is unreachable, like he is on a subway miles underneath you, where cellphone signals don't reach, And thanks to your passive, gutless, pointless existence, your friends desert you. But before that your family labels you a loser. You lose in love. You rationalize falsely, how love is futile in these times where war, politics, and infidelity shake globe.
What do you do when you have too much time in your hands, but zero will, or ability to do anything at all? Maybe, like me, you deliver a tirade by typing aimlessly on a shiny keyboard. Say some ugly things and show how blank, black, and hopeless you feel inside, perhaps not permanently, but because you terribly miss that particular person, whose sole presence gives your life purpose, makes it bright, shows you light and presents you with hope. To you, this person is the desired vertical intervention.
Estragon: Charming spot. (He turns, advances to front, halts facing auditorium) Inspiring prospects. (Turns to Vladimir) Let's go.
Vladimir: We can't.
Estragon: Why not?
Vladimir: We're waiting for Godot.
You try a lot to escape, though. You try to take vacations and one-day getaways. And they surely do not help. You cannot enjoy the trip because of the thoughts from the stressful life you have temporarily left behind plague your mind and ruin your peaceful escape. And once you are back, tired, ironically, you groan out, as the life you had let go for a day or week, grabs you by the neck and thrusts on you all that you left incomplete.
What have you left incomplete? Everything. You seek for a vertical intervention to help you alleviate this burden. Weaklings call this intervention God. You call Him on his hotline. He is unreachable, like he is on a subway miles underneath you, where cellphone signals don't reach, And thanks to your passive, gutless, pointless existence, your friends desert you. But before that your family labels you a loser. You lose in love. You rationalize falsely, how love is futile in these times where war, politics, and infidelity shake globe.
What do you do when you have too much time in your hands, but zero will, or ability to do anything at all? Maybe, like me, you deliver a tirade by typing aimlessly on a shiny keyboard. Say some ugly things and show how blank, black, and hopeless you feel inside, perhaps not permanently, but because you terribly miss that particular person, whose sole presence gives your life purpose, makes it bright, shows you light and presents you with hope. To you, this person is the desired vertical intervention.
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Estragon: Charming spot. (He turns, advances to front, halts facing auditorium) Inspiring prospects. (Turns to Vladimir) Let's go.
Vladimir: We can't.
Estragon: Why not?
Vladimir: We're waiting for Godot.
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