The Sickness

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Gender Female
Points 1647
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Today, after a Harry Potter filled night of intrigue and adventure, once again I find I have the sickness. Sometimes known as "Boredom".

After a mere four hours of sleep on a good friends floor I find myself unable to concentrate on a subject for much time. I have read. I have written. I have watched movies. I have eaten. I have played music. I have listened to music. I have sat in silence. I have drawn. I have attempted conversation. I have [s]played video games[/s] avoided playing video games. I have showered. I have watched tv, swept the floor, gone on the computer, gone for a walk, perused my house, and yet...

I, after all of this, am still bored. Imagine, a girl with hair pulled brutally back into a lopsided ponytail, with sunken purple semi-circles under eye, curled up in an armchair with a surly look on her face. This, currently, is me. As I sit in this state, watching infomercials, sweating because the laptop is overheating, and avoiding going to bed because it's bound to be even less interesting than the nothing I am doing now, I wonder.

Is anyone else stuck with a similar case of the sickness? I'd love to hear any remedies. ;)

-Maggie
"Why kill time when you can kill yourself?"
-Voltaire




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Gender Male
Points 1068
Reviews 39
Yes, I as well sit here, wallowing in loneliness and boredom. Surrounded by possibilities.....puzzles to be made, online checkers to be played, dishes to evade. And yet I sit, I wonder what it is I could possibly do to keep myself busy. I log onto YWS, see that I have a message and respond, post something trivial about signatures, fetch myself a glass of blueberry green tea.....

Hoping someone will arrive valiantly on some white steed, take my hand and traverse with me to some far-away land to do something of real importance.

Well, not really. I just want someone to talk to.

Really, that's all I want. How hard could that be to accomplish? :/
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed by that which it was nourished by.
(Exerpt from Shakespearean Sonnet Number 73)



Poems were like people. Some people you got right off the bat. Some people you just don't get - and never would get.
— Benjamin Alire Saenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe