I'm bored out of my mind. And I know only boring people get bored, but I just don't care anymore. Mostly I'm bored because I'm too lazy to do anything, or it could be I no longer find anything exciting enough to be worth me getting out of bed for. I listened to Carmen but I already know most of it. I cooked some spicy stuff, but I'm no longer impressed with my kitchen skills. I browsed around ebay and couldn't find anything to spend more money on. The stuff I do have to do, like write an email to my professor or finish my huge reporting piece, well, they scare and bore me at the same time. I don't know what I want to do with my time. Maybe I'm a bit lonely. Maybe love has made me soft and sort of clingy. I don't like myself like I used to and I give more fucks than I used to. I try to repeat mantras in my head. Telling myself only I can choose to be happy, that I have no real problems and they're all in my head. But at least worrying makes me feel alive. Whereas this dull happiness I'm experiencing lately may just as well be a symptom of depression. I have no big plan and I'm not part of anything great. I can't live like this anymore and yet I can't move a finger. I know life eventually pushes me into stuff. I'll get to some redecorating one of these days and I'll hopefully get in for PhD. I'll keep waking up each morning, going to work, going, going, going, when all I want is to sit still and stare at the wall. The Two of Spades is all about how I feel right now. That inertia. That lack of purpose and real drive. Love yanks me out of it from time to time, it's an occasional oasis in the desert I get lost in every day around my head. But until I let it rain, I will not find the path, for the desert swallows any footstep or direction sign.