"Something brought you here." An oriental voice echoed and caught your ears as you passed this part of the streets.

"Maybe we have met before, and you just didn't know it." It continued, reverberating off the brickwork surrounding the darkened area you have found yourself in.

"Maybe you are me, and I am you." The voice exclaimed then turned into a loud laughter.

You suddenly found yourself in a room surrounded by nothing but mirrors showing your reflection, which was distorted. Where the fuck am I, you think. Is this a dream?

Then it hits you. A fuckn newspaper from some schmuck passing by, which has awoken you. You fell asleep on a bench in the streets during your rounds. A quick break between discussions and taking in the lively atmosphere.

Before you can make heads or tails of your sleep state, or even bother with it, you look down at the newspaper laying open on your lap. A little something grabs your attention so you take it between both hands and have a proper look.

It seems to be a snippet of some sort amongst other printed material. The title is 'The Uninspiring Truth'. Curious and still half stuck in your subconscious, you continue with the flow and take a proper moment to read what's now staring at you.

The Uninspiring Truth

Life. Real life. The parts between the so called living. Those moments of nothing. Not like the advertised something. Like a flashing billboard over your every waking moment telling you to be better or do more. To aspire to something, or to become someone.

But what and who? And which company is spewing this shit? What really is the real and the not so. Who should you be; what should you become? Thoughts born of grasping at puffs of smoke. You never arrive. Because you never truly left.

You just thought, and so you tried. You hoped to fill moments with this so called life. This something else that isn't what already is. Because what is, you already have. But real living? Well it ain't all that it's wound up to be.

It's not over there. It's not at the end of a goal or aspiration. It certainly isn't what's advertised. It's the monotony. The monotone between the loud notes. The silence. It's simply, uninspiring.

Yet sit with it. Be that which is. Not what you're told it is while you buy into spending and buying. But that which truly is. Then witness the magic. That gap between the doing and trying. Be all that you are. Be life. Be real. Be, the uninspiring truth.

Author Unknown