Looking at the disco ball
I turn on the disco ball. My entire room is painted with patterns that are constantly changing. While all this is happening, I’m laying on my bed, listening to some music I don’t remember, soaking in the colors right above the disco ball. But, I don’t feel good. My neck starts to hurt; I think I’m twisting it too much to focus on that particular spot. But, I don’t listen to my body. I keep on staying in this position. Soon, my focus shifted to the inner world- I was lost in thought. My thoughts took me to my childhood. They could only present me with a vague recollection of a few instances. I remembered feeling empathy when my friend had bruised his knee by falling on concrete. Could I make any conclusions about myself from the limited capacity of my memory? I don’t think so. It was years of joys, sorrows, and mundanity condensed to a single second. This is not the first time my thoughts have entered this territory. Some things could be the same. Another person is facing pain, but this