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The world around, me and search for meaning

in "Illusion' Richard Bach says something about boredom. he says it is not so easy to win boredom. it is true. the boredom becomes a grand vacuum which keeps sucking everything in you in it and then you start expressing both vacuum inwards and outwards. even what i speak or listen or think get the color of boredom and music of life is lost. it is lost not in any din or any disharmony, but it is lost in strange silence.
i have not yet come over of boredom, but somehow i have created a place, may be crawling from it, from where I can watch at it. the world can be viewed with your own eyes or you can borrow some successful eyes to look at it. similarly either you can view yourself or you can view yourself from other people's eyes and try to make yourself so clean, so tidy, so neat that their eyes will admire you. fuck it...
i am starting to view myself as I am. somehow I am loosing sense of a world around me as it is nothing but only my feeling of it. is it really happening with me?
belief starts systems. and then system shapes further believes.
if I write, it won't be a truth. if it is truth, it won't be written.
why the hell one writes then?
pleasure, seeking to someone who has same feeling or for what?
why one lives at all?

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