Same Old, Same Old

Routine is comforting.

Fall asleep on the right side of the bed, white sheets, blue blanket, alarm rings at 8.30, snooze it three times, wake up at 8.57 on the left side of the bed, get out of bed at 9, Colgate toothpaste, Pears soap, kajal and sleep on the eyes, toast, college, home, read, coffee, tv, dinner, fall asleep on the right side of the bed. Rinse and repeat.

But more often than not, routine is dangerous; or the need to break out of it is. Sometimes I get this unshakeable feeling that every day I'm inching closer and closer to the end of an ordinary life, while I'd much rather be hurtling towards the end of an extraordinary one. Which, though dramatic, is true. And it makes me do small stupid things, this big not-so-stupid feeling. Drive a little faster than is good, be a little more flirtatious than I should, drink more than I can hold and stay out longer than is respectable. And that's what makes life livable. But I'm scared that one day I'll be so frustrated and bored that those small rebellions won't be enough for me. That because I'm scared that I'll end up a traffic jam, I'll go faster and faster till I'm a full blown car accident. You know, fuck the metaphors. I'm just scared I'll do BIG stupid things instead of little stupid things. And my mature and understanding exterior will belie the rash and unreasonable person inside.

Now I don't know if I'm right, and this isn't an epiphany or anything close. It's just what I've been feeling a lot lately, and it's 2 am and I just want to tell everyone on the internet that I've been feeling it a lot lately.