Now that the two days of absolute freedom are up, I regret not actually doing anything productive in that time. Not to say that lounging around and staying up late weren’t fun but me complaining of being bored could have resulted in me actually doing work or collecting the clothes or something at least remotely useful.
Now that father is home, I miss the sound of silence and the totally solitude that come with it. It could have been immensely lonely at times but some peace is nice once in a while.
I think having nothing to do is affecting me in ways I don’t understand. Well I understand it to the extent that I know that I don’t like it and that I need a hobby.
I hate having nothing to do. I have motivational problems – really – but if there’s a good idea there out there somewhere, I have yet to find it.
This’ll be short. The last post was real. Not a cry for help, per se, but a call out of desperation. Desperate to do something.
I have issues. Only one person knows most of them. Only one person knows all of them.
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