It feels as if my boredom has overflowed my atrophied mind and spilled over into my cardiovascualr system. Like being alive is a chore in itself to be labored over like breathing through cigarette smoke. My free time has no use and my occupied time has no significance.

I can hardly beleive it's come to so low a point as this. I sit here feeling, and typing, what I usually reserve for the intentionally lonely 'please feel sorry for me now' crowd I imagine in the glow of a monitor and a dozen scented candles.

And yet here I am.

It's like the past few weeks have seen a gradual decline of
everything I ever found rewarding about my existence. I think I've run out of freebie happiness. I'm not alowed anymore to just find myself smiling for no reason, or in any instance feeling or expressing joy or happiness simply because I'm here. Or there, as the case may be.

I don't know where I get this idea, but that's exactly it. No more undeserved smiles, ever. That's what overcomes me right now. I have to work for them from now on.

And since work without tactile rewards has never been my thing, that's the last stop on this train of thought.


...At least I'm burning an oil lamp, and not scented candles.