What am I doing?

Im just casually cruising on my sexy bike, winds blowing through my hair. Full speed ahead, aimlessly reaching an unknown destination. Oh how it feels!

Kidding! Of course Im not cruising with the wind in my hear. Im sitting here, writing this blog, that has unmeaningful words, in an unmeaningful paragraph of nothing.

Im just aimlessly writing for the sake of the emptiness that’s coursing through my body. Oh wait, is that my blood?

Like I said before, I’m empty. I feel like dead meat. Maybe that’s a new definition for being bored. But that would mean I’m always bored. Therefore that means I’m a boring creature. But I don’t want to be known to be boring. I mean, I do a few things in the hours of daylight. I go to the gym, move the lacking of limbs. I eat, to fill in the gap of whatever seems to be missing. I watch films, but I’m not really watching them, or listening to their story. I’m just simply looking at the screen with deaf ears and glazed eyes. I put my head inside books, literally, amazing feeling ever. The way the pages tickle my face. The words blur, but still read able. Seriously though, the stories are a great escape, which is great, but there’s only so much you can take before this dullness comes back. So I’m empty.

Would you call me boring? Or would you call me fed up, expecting too much in a simple life?

I could go out, but hearing other peoples voices, seeing the way there mouth moves with words, making me have to listen to their stories doesn’t exactly appeal to me. That’s a selfish thing to say, but it’s the honest truth. I mean I’d like to spend the evening in the company of someone other than myself, but they always end up asking about me. I don’t really want to talk about me, or they go weird because well they try to impress, but I don’t want to be impressed. So it’s just easier to spend my evening in my own company. Better than the awkwardness. But being with this negative ass all the time is taking its toll on what’s left of me.

(I sound like an ungrateful ass)

I should be satisfied with what I have, it’s not like I’m always going to have these moments.

I just seem messed up.

The words that are rolling around in my head for me to write next, is ; I love you.

Doesn’t really make sense. But I don’t think I’ve ever made sense.

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