Circling Without Landing: Boredom’s Stillness

He sat, eyes fixed on nothing.

“I’m bored,” he mumbled.

Not sick.  Not broken. 

Just stalled.

It isn’t laziness.

It’s a freeze that doesn’t crack.

You’re awake, but not alive.

Body here.  Mind elsewhere.

Boredom:

A smoke alarm with no fire.  

Lethargy:

Cells demanding better terms.

Boredom suspends you.

Like a computer in sleep mode—

not off, not running, just waiting.

This isn’t failure.

It’s rhythm.

Feel the strange peace—

the permission to be unfinished.

Life repairs in stillness.

The plane circles.

No climb.  No drop.  Just the hum.

Let it circle.

It will land when the fog clears.

What if circling is part of your journey?

I explore these quiet shifts on Instagram. 

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Break Fences. Find Joy

Ever found joy that asks for nothing?

Joy that doesn't check the clock,

or rehearse before speaking,

or ask how much to laugh.

It arrives whole, unguarded, unapologetic.

Somewhere along, we began to portion joy.

Trimmed our laughter.

Left the dance floor before the music stopped.

Spoke almost what we meant, 

but never the full truth.

Caution built fences.

Fear made them taller.

We called it maturity.

And mistook it for dignity.

The real danger was never excess.

It was the slow suffocation of inner feelings:

Delayed delight.

Strangled impulses.

Life lived in spoons.

Gay Abandonment defies all these.

(Here it means full of joy, carefree.  Nothing to do with sexual orientation.)

It chooses fullness. Freedom.

Why seek permission when the sky is all yours?

Recently I watched a fifty-two-year-old woman dance.

The song she chose was her age.

She wasn't performing.

Not competing for approval.

Simply living it — fully, visibly, without apology.

A classic experience of gay abandonment.

Not described. Not explained. Just demonstrated.

When did you last live it?

I explore these quiet shifts on Instagram. 

Catch me👉 @myteega

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Ego: The Invisible Assassin

"Call me a fool on my face.  I won't flinch.  I've no ego."

The chairman said it often.

One day, he sacked the lift operator.

The lift had arrived seconds late.

He said he had no ego.

His watch did.

Ego is the deadliest killer in the room.

Most people never see it coming.

Because it wears a familiar face.

Yours.

It asks only one question: "What's in it for me?"

It hijacks every conversation:

• Trivialises a friend's pain with your victory story.
• Tears down a colleague's idea to look smarter.
• Reads only to hunt for agreement.

Ego wears confidence.  But it's counterfeit.

Real confidence admits mistakes.

Ego defends to the death.

It delivers fake smiles, shallow attention, hollow wins.

And quietly kills every connection worth keeping.

The chairman never flinched at being called a fool.

He flinched at being made to wait.

That's ego.

Dead weight.

Always in a hurry to prove it isn't there.

When was the last time your watch spoke for you?

I explore these quiet shifts on Instagram. 

Catch me👉 @myteega

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If you enjoyed reading this, share your thoughts.
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