I used to be intelligent…

I used to read Dickens.

I used to read, period.

I mean, I still do, but not as much as I did.

I’ve never felt a passion for anything.  (Is that normal?  I haven’t even had an obsession with a band or an author, let alone the bigger stuff like life.)

I’ve never been motivated.  I’ve always settled for “average.”  Part of me doesn’t like setting high standards but most of it’s laziness.

My life is what I make of it and right now it’s boring.

I also said something to my brother today that even made me ashamed of hitting below the belt.  Why can’t I grow up?

It just seems like I take one step forward and two steps backwards.

My brain cells are dying.

Rawr.

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2 Responses

  1. You got plenty of time for your passion to find you!

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