(no subject)
So it is 9:40 in the morning. On a Saturday. It's raining and the onset of the day's dreary humidity is just beginning. I hate when the weather is like this when I wake up. I'm throwing this day away. I have to work for the majority of it, anyway.
I don't live anymore. I really need to do something that's going to make me excited about the entire day. If I don't soon I'm afraid that I'll let the emptiness of my days consume me. I suppose there is no point in complaining about such things because the power to change my ways is always in my hands. Or perhaps I am actually content with the monotony of my life, and don't have the energy to have it any other way.
This generally means it's time to pull out my journal and write.
Au revoir pseudo life journal.
I don't live anymore. I really need to do something that's going to make me excited about the entire day. If I don't soon I'm afraid that I'll let the emptiness of my days consume me. I suppose there is no point in complaining about such things because the power to change my ways is always in my hands. Or perhaps I am actually content with the monotony of my life, and don't have the energy to have it any other way.
This generally means it's time to pull out my journal and write.
Au revoir pseudo life journal.