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I don’t know if I threw rocks at St. Kobe’s temple as a kid, made some failed deal with the Devil, or if a zombie bite left permanent scars. But I always end up asking myself this indecent question:
“Why do I get bored so easily?”Deep down, I know there’s a stable part of me somewhere. I always feel one step away from being normal… but maybe I just keep choosing the wrong way to act.
Sometimes I feel ridiculously human and wonder if I should reshape myself, become something else entirely. But honestly, who could feel as much as a miserable human does? I scrap that thought because, let’s be real, even the most magical beings would envy this messy, human mediocrity. Is it selfish to think that?
People ask if I believe in destiny or all that stuff idiots love. I always answer, “If destiny believes in me, why shouldn’t I believe back?”
I’m a words kind of woman—I love believing in lies. Because with one poorly aged human, any action can fade into nothing. But words? You can tuck them into a little piece of paper and make someone smile forever. Words last longer. Am I dumb for thinking that?
I’ve met liars who were more honest than those obsessed with honesty....
And yet, here I am, stuck with the same indecent question:
“Why do I get bored so easily?”
Posted 11/19/2024, 10:00 PM