Bored Enough to Stop Wanting..... I’m not sad in a dramatic way. No storms, no shattered rooms. Just bored the kind of bored that leaks into your bones and makes everything feel unnecessary. Bored of waking up to the same ceiling with the same thoughts lined up like chores. Bored of days that ask for effort and give nothing back. I don’t want a life the way people describe it goals, plans, futures with bullet points. I don’t want to build something I already feel tired of maintaining. It’s boring having to care all the time. Boring to pretend that small talk is connection, that productivity is purpose, that surviving another week is something to celebrate. I’m bored of explaining myself. Bored of “you’re young, you have time.” Time to do what? Repeat this feeling with better clothes and a different schedule? Life feels like a hallway that never ends, just doors that lead to slightly rearranged rooms. Same walls. Same air. Same quiet disappointment. I don’t want tragedy. I don’t want rescue. I just want the pressure to stop the pressure to want things, to dream, to care about outcomes that feel hollow the moment I touch them. People think boredom is harmless. But they don’t talk about how it eats motivation, how it drains color, how it makes existing feel like a task with no off switch. I’m bored enough to stop wanting a life, not because I hate it, but because I don’t feel inside it anymore. Like I’m watching days pass through thick glass, unimpressed, untouched. And maybe that’s the worst part not pain, not chaos, just the quiet realization that boredom can make you question why you’re here at all.
this is so real
ok
real ngl
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