I realize some people won't agree with me, but I feel that yesterday's riling against life for being so boring was pretty selfish of me. I wasn't put on this earth to just be entertained.
But neither was it ever intended to be a living hell. I am not at all justifying doing nothing, being idle, and developing some sort of piteous martyr complex over being bored.
I've just got my priorties a mess. I'm just frazzled and disorganized and disjointed lately. Inside. More than I think I've ever really been. I can't keep things reined in. I can't keep control of things.
I don't really seem to care though. What's the use of caring about it?
I'm on a high right now. So I'm just going to ride it out. Be happy. And content. Comfortable in my dreaming.