Random thoughts on a quiet day in March. I feel as if I'm slowly fading into the background of my world. I've become so adjusted to my inactive lifestyle that it's often difficult to even imagine having any real passion for something or someone anymore.
Days and nights seem to blur into one lucid dreamlike state of insatiability. I feel unfulfilled yet I exert no effort to change or better my situation. I am content in such a way that prevents me from even leaving my room for the entire day. There is an enormous weight on responsibility resting on my shoulders that constantly reminds me of my enslavement to it. Although I appease these earthly debts, it is with much despair.
I miss being in love with something or someone, preferably the latter. Nothing seems to inspire me enough to disrupt my perpetual, conceited and materialistic nature.
One thing I do know is that nothing ever lasts, including my state of mind on this March morning.
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