If I could just like

Who I am when I’m bored is who I’ve been running away from.

I get caught in cycles of wake up – dopamine – sleep. Sometimes it’s wake up – dopamine – dopamine – dopamine – sleep. Sometimes I don’t sleep at all.

Boredom is a feeling I’ve never been able to tolerate. I promise I’m okay, I’m just looking for something to live for. It’s strange because when I’m bored is when I’m thinking more. I could spend a whole day thinking nonesense bullshit. I’d waste a whole day throwing my brain around. Like a field.

But then I ask myself, who am I to feel so much regret for a life lived diligently? Who I am to be running away from life itself? And I’m back to where I started. Which is even stranger because my brain’s still on Boredom Avenue. Waiting for a Uber. To an apartment that’s a 20 minute walk away.

When I love myself and am coincidentally bored at the same time, I start thinking maybe it isn’t a coincidence at all. I don’t really know where I’m going with all of this but I think it’s someplace nice. Or I know. I know it’s someplace nice.