Dear Diary, I don’t know

There are days I do not want to write. Like today. Like the past couple of months. There are days when all I want to do is watch movies to relieve the boredom. That feeling of not being able to know what it is exactly that is making me feel bad. I don’t even know if it’s sadness, loneliness, or just plain old boredom getting the best of me. So, I rather not write. I don’t even know what to write on days like today. I feel like I’d just be ranting about the same things. It feels like I’d only be repeating the same things in different sentences anyway, so why bother? Diary, you and me now. Just us and this dim reality of how we are going to cope with things in life. Nothing is exactly wrong. It’s just bland, that’s all.

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