Time To Get Real

Boredom

I'm sitting here again, wandering between literotica and adultswim and bearshare and back again to writing.com. Music is boring to me, and everything seems to agitate me after I saw Sin City. It was a pretty decent flick. I liked the blood, and the killings, even though it was mostly black and white. It reminded me of what I did before I was the person I am now. Of what I had to do. I felt the old strength welling up in my arms again. I didn't feel bored, or soft, like I am now. For a few sweet minutes, I remembered who I used to be, long ago when I was someone else.

But there's no point in reminiscing. The only thing I can do is move forward, and even though I'm not who I used to be, I can still act. And I have to act. I'm not unlike a character in an old, old story. The plot is set in stone. I have a part to play, and if I don't play, bad things happen.

Most people think losing your car keys or being late to an appointment are bad things. Those are kid things, baby things. When bad things happen, chaos is king, and confusion is queen. Everything is mixed together and crossed. And maybe I stop coming back. Maybe, for the first time in forever, I don't exist anymore.

Now I'm tired. I have a lot to do, and as usual, I have only just begun. Maybe tomorrow I'll be less bored and edgy. The blood always wakes me up, when all I want is sleep.