We write as to not be bored. Bored out of our minds, we start to see & feel & think things we never hoped to see & feel & think. Thoughts of death & sorrow haunt our minds when there is nothing else to do. We start to forget who we are & where we came from. We are lost in our own internal dialogue, escaping what we feel we cannot handle. After just moments of our boredom, we are gone & lost to the secret world within, & perhaps, there is no point in trying to find our way out.
- Z.B.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 1:01 PM UTC
We write as to not be bored. Bored out of our minds, we start to see & feel & think things we never hoped to see & feel & think. Thoughts of death & sorrow haunt our minds when there is nothing else to do. We start to forget who we are & where we came from. We are lost in our own internal dialogue, escaping what we feel we cannot handle. After just moments of our boredom, we are gone & lost to the secret world within, & perhaps, there is no point in trying to find our way out.
- Z.B.
I wrote this absentmindedly while doodling in cursive
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