July 10, 2008
A dull day, stretch out and wait, playing music while staring a blinding screen, unable to think of anything witty. When did my mind grow so bored with itself? When did I become this idiot, who cannot stop staring, stop counting cracks in the ceiling? (Two cracks.) I look at the apartment and feel ill, but I pull something old over my head and curl into bed, or curl up with a video game, choosing to disappear into my own head rather than let the outside world work its charm on me. Then again, charm? This world? Such utter lies.