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.
Catch me👉 @myteega