Boredom

There is not a punishment of greater agony than a man of passion catching a bad case of boredom.

Boredom is a malady, more pernicious than jealousy, more damaging than pride and definitely more addictive than any drug known. Boredom is that poison that goes first for the mind. And then, from the mind, it descends down upon the body. It creeps insidiously in its slow, serpentine flow and settles in your joints. It sits heavily on your neck, then on your eyelids and before you know it, it has you in it's lethargic spell, in it's torpid daze.

But it is boredom's addictive nature that is most harmful. Like a narcotic, after a point, you start wanting it, knowing fully well that it's fumes are systematically turning you into a vegetable, or a piece of furniture. A chair, for instance. A chair that stands all day in its place in a room. All the change in the world outside - from the discovery of electricity to the iPad- could not move the chair from its place. It just sat there all day long, long dead.

Things get all the more difficult to bear when it happens to a man of passion, of desires, someone of ambition. A man who, for some reason, explained or unexplained, has relinquished his grip on the reigns. A frustrated man.
But, here's the truth. His agony, often, owes not to his frustration alone, but to the inroads boredom has made into this frustration. Its the hand that twists the knife.

So despair not if you are frustrated and rest assured that it shall come back. But never, ever let boredom slip into your frustration, as it is then that the wheels of your death shall start turning.