There's something inexplicably beautiful about the stillness of a moonlit night. The quietness that may appeal to the paranormal (now i am just messing with your mind) may awake the dead poet in me.
I say, dead. Let's leave it right there.
For the past few months, I've been down with something most jobless people like me suffer from. An illness most take pride in - insomnia.
As the hours of the old clock go tick-tock, you're caught up in a whirlwind of your mind. You're happy your parents are snoozing away to glory, while you sit in your room moping over nothing.
You're happy the moon's out on duty - so now, you can stare at the moon and mope away - adding the much needed touch of drama.
Meaningless words of poetry rampantly attack your brain as you turn from Lord Byron to Frankenstein within a matter of minutes.
And, your friend on the phone says, "Blame it on the moon".
Some of us conveniently turn gloomy after the clock strikes 11pm. Call rates are cheaper, TV channels show soppy movies that you've watched over a hundred times and you realize you're the only one awake in the near physical vicinity.
So, basically, admiring the beauty of the night sky, invoking poetry in you and rambling away on the phone are the only available options. Because, lets face it - your brain's being a bitch.
I am a person who loves to sleep. I feel the sleepiest on the worst of situations.
Examination halls, the days leading up to an important exam, funerals, weddings, long bus rides, not-so-long bus rides, as i ride on my brother's bike, when my mother cites reasons for my useless nature, etc.
But, recently evading sleep doesn't seem to be much of an issue. I can never sleep.
I sit around like Hedwig - wide eyed and amazed.
"You've too much on my mind", says my philosophical friend. " Don't lose your sleep over anything"
" and why the heck are you awake Gepetto?"
I am greeted by curses.
With the midnight snacks, the out of the blue guitar playing and the i always-have-something-to-say phone sessions - I've come to the bright conclusion that I may be standing over an already diminishing borderline of insomnia and plain insanity.
It is the Lun-atic effect on the loony :D - as the philosophical friend surmises.
PJs are in. Worse, I am beginning to enjoy PJs.
Who's to say?
Maybe I am turning cuckoo after all.
Rest in Peace until further ado.