Life is boring and it’s ok at times. I just wonder if life is always boring or if it should be boring, by that I mean, is boring a good sign that everything’s ok? And what is ok anyway? Or is it that after a storm comes a calm? 

Maybe that’s what calm is, boring. I am not a calm person that’s a fact. I don’t even wish I were calm; calm makes me nauseous. It makes me think of purring cats, tacky creatures, epidemic touch of cheesiness…

I don’t know what to think of boring, really. Part of it frightens me I must admit. Does getting older imply boredom? Boring couch, boring pajama, boring nights, boring boredom, bored bored bored. What do people do at night? I feel guilty watching seriously questionable TV series but that makes me forget the potentially boring existence of me you see.

I have great ideas. I have hundreds of ideas of things to do, things I promise myself I’ll do next time I get bored. For some reason though, the utter emptiness of these moments discourages me. And I’d rather be bored doing nothing than be bored doing things I promised myself I’d do.

Boredom is a big black hole of nothingness. Yet, it also tastes like hot chocolate, has a warm and fuzzy feeling, it can stop time and make it ok to do… well, nothing.

Boredom is a shriveled little apple, it’s small, ugly and wrinkled.