Bored

I am bored. I don’t know when I realized this, but I am quite clear now that I am. In fact, so bored am I that I don’t really feel the necessity to find out what really might have caused this. I am very sure that I don’t feel like doing anything, and that would include sleeping as well. I have work to complete at office, books to finish reading at home, a correspondence course that I joined a while, and a few more stuff which I can't recall, but my mind is not in a mood to engage itself any of these. In fact, my brain has decided that it has put itself to enough and more use for the past so many years that it wants to take some rest. Several of my sensory organs protested feebly, but with brain refusing to budge from its stance, there wasn’t much these poor folks could do but to follow their orders. As always, the brain didn't bother to check how I'd feel about it taking a rest. So, the lids droop over the eyes, the ears switch off the noises around it, the tongue is lolling to a side, the nose is just drawing in enough air to survive, and the skin is looking quite lifeless. I ask myself whether I am going to sleep, but I know I am not. I sit here, in a stupor, staring blankly in front of me, not really registering what is happening around. In all this, I am clear about only one thing – I am bored.