• boredom that's what i can blame it on boredom you can live your life streaming you know just constantly viewing, waiting watching you don't have to be a real person the choice to acknowledge the consciousness, the who am i, what makes me me, is completely up to you i just got sick of my life i guess sick of being told to drive carefully sick of staying up to cram velocity and centripetal acceleration formulas into my brain there was a breaking point somewhere in there, i think some place where i decided i didn't want to own my life recently i've become an organized person my bed is made, the keys are always on the rack there's less panic that way it leaves more time to listen to useless suggestions, swollow down advice by the bottle full everyone thinks they know some special secret and their just dying to blab it all over the world whenever i get too bored inside my head, like at work, the first question i ask myself is who i want to be sometimes i think no one, as if i could do this forever as if with practice, i can completely seperate from my heart and desires, essentially be only a science experiement of a body-exactly as the rest of the world can see me i'm so fucking bored i don't even know what that word means i don't know if it's my fault for not being interesting, or someonne else';s for placing me here when i try to have conversations, i never know what to say i have such a problem making myself care i must have really snapped the tether huh? no, no, dear it's all an act i've merely discovered madness is a way to pass th time and somehow i'm always stuck with so much on my hands

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