There is no insight to my writing nowadays. I am just a person with too much time in my hands. I am like a drunk going aimlessly through life. Not knowing what to expect.
In the end, I concluded that even writing doesn't give me the satisfaction anymore; the thing that I enjoy most is no longer enjoyable.
So *[t]hat (what) is left?
* What are you saying? Keep on writing? Indeed, anything pleasurable, if prolonged can become a suffering.
I am so bored with writing that I yawned several times. Suddenly I have the urge to smoke cigarettes. Imagine, cigarettes are more pleasurable at this point.
I'll watch Netflix instead.
mm
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