Today was a reinforcement in everything that's wrong with me.
I care too much about things.
Nobody cares what happens to me.
All is well, and as it should be.
I'm finding that these days are feeling more like a waste than an accomplishment.
Somebody save me from this boredom and la-la land of competition and opportunity.
Or don't.
I can't feel anything inside my head anymore. I used to have such a resevoir of bright ideas, unique thoughts, and stories to write and say. I think the hard news reality has dampened that, if not outright killed it. Shed a tear today, because this might be the death of an artist, and the birth of a monster.
Today might be the day like any other day, in any other week, where nothing happens, and the world changes.
Tonight might be the sleep that makes all the sense. Tonight might be the night I wake up from the nightmare with a breath of relief. Or tonight might just be a period of darkness before the morning comes, and this all starts again.
Where have all my ideas gone? Surely this rambling has gotten boring by now.
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