It was last weekend I washed my cloths last time. And it was yesterday, in the evening, I found that I was left with no washed cloths. Yesterday I was not in a mood to wash; and I spent the whole day in my room. Sometimes I feel that life is very much about routine. Since I didn't wash my cloths yesterday, I have a reason to take a day off today. I have no idea when will I really feel like washing my cloths next time; perhaps an uncertainty which is strictly confined to my immediate surroundings. And for that kind of reasons I feel sometimes that life has hardly anything to do with discipline and submission. All I know is that, at times, life takes a pause to rearrange the disorders and makes sure that cloths are washed and everything appears normal. sometimes it is inevitable as I fail to keep up. It was a rainy month of some not so long years back I had a puff of a cigarette for the first time; and I never tried it again since then. Sometimes I feel that there is an insoluble unresponsiveness inside; unresponsive even to lethal venom perhaps. I am having long nights. This month almost eighteen nights. Perhaps some of the longest nights in my life. I am not really sure about the numbers; eighteen or nineteen may be much more than that. I am not good with numbers. They always confuse me. They make me feel that I am mathematically disabled; almost beyond repair. I wake up in the morning everyday; no much doubt about that; because I see people get themselves in a hurry in the morning, sitting on the terrace, feeding the doves sometimes. free time is slow time always. I have friends. In fact quite a lot of them; even in the north western coast of north Atlantic Ocean. I hope they are all doing good and making every moment of their life a memorable one. I have cloths to wash, I have classes to attend and I have people around me to be made feel that I behave reasonably normal all the time. And this time I feel that won't fail trying to keep up because I find solitude is an insurmountable one
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