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Boredom is becoming almost physically ailling.
To a point when I have nothing better to do but contemplate
the workings of my inner mind, trying to take it apart and
correctly put myself back together so I can function properly.
It seems almost ridiculous how boring and repetitive things are.
Everything is monochromatic, and dull.

It seems that nothing interests me anymore,
and if it does, there's no way it can hold my attention.
Nothing is aesthetically pleasing to me,
no one is attractive, everything makes me sick,
nothing is original.
It almost makes me nauseous when I think,
although thinking is probably the easiest thing to do.

The mind strays to things I've never seen,
or things I've only caught a glimpse of;
and I want to see more in depth.
Things that I fear have become more and more intriguing,
and (though I deny it to myself,) more terrifying.
And more often, my mind strays away from reality,
into something I used to know when
I wasn't in touch with the world as it is now.
Fiction is more genuine than the people surrounding me.

Monochromatic.
Dull.

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