i am tired. i seem to be tired all the time, perhaps more from the routine that is life rather than physical strain. i have forgotten how to stop, to slow down and smell the flowers, so much so that i feel too guilty to indulge in such unproductive pleasures. a good book, a warm cup of tea, blues filing the air, my feet tucked under me whilst i snuggle into the folds of the oversized armchair. my soul yearns for the comfort. laughters, good company, a glass of red wine. all these are missing from my life for too long. i feel drained, dehydrated of the little pleasures in life.