I am Futile.

I am dumbfounded. I have worms in my head, eating every neuron of my brain. So, I can’t write. I can’t!

I am barricaded with basic ABC’s. Even those stuff cause my brain to shed blood. Really. My fingers are stiff, corpse-like. My eyelids are hefty, truck-like. Positively. So, you think I’m productive? I am actually trying to extract ideas in every follicle in my head. But I just can’t.

I have a clogged nose. I hate colds. Then, my throat hurts from sneezing. And I’m wheezing like a kettle. I hate cough, and fever. I hate illnesses. They are killing me softly. ‘Coz whenever I want to be on top of the game, I have to learn hurdling them. I can’t afford to be absent. I just can’t see my doctor. I hate clinics and hospitals.

Now, the sound of my officemates’ keyboards is envious. Well, they are hotshots. Maestro of brilliant ideas. And here I am, gurgling a mug of hot water, staring at the monitor, scratching my head. I just can’t do anything worthwhile.

So, help me. SOS! Rescue me. Take me to the underworld, and together, we’ll plan for the apocalypse.

The Internet is back.

I just thought it would be forever. Now, the internet is back. I can blog again.

 Thanks, John!