As it is, I am thoroughly sick of life. My life lah. Calculus, Chemistry, Physics, Calculus, Chemistry, Physics. Perpetually perpetuated. A cycle a cycle. Of course, I entertain myself. I'm playing Sims 3 and Plants Vs Zombies and Spore. I'm reading Madame Bovary and The Trial simultaneously. I'm listening to Tchaikovsky.
And yet, and yet.
The evasion of boredom engenders a great awareness of boredom which engenders a greater sensitivity to boredom which in turn engenders boredom itself.
Yet, is it boredom? Maybe it is merely a long-held revulsion to routine resurfacing for some air. Maybe it is Brown? The kind of feeling when you feel like you're glimpsing parallel realities. You feel like you don't belong, like part of you went off on its own journey, its own destiny and you know you're missing it? Yet I think not. My life is, amazingly enough, little affected by this Brown thing.
A friend has a very simplistic solution.
You need a boyfriend.
Amusing. To talk to? I talked about this already. Didn't work. To care for? I am too lazy. To belong to? I need no owner. Since friends didn't work, I don't think I need a boyfriend. What differentiates a friend and a boyfriend anyway? The 'boy', that's what. The only difference between a friend and a boyfriend is the sex.
I need sex?
Huh.
The Penn-State guy once tried to explain the concept of 'coupling' to me. Sounds too romantic to me. Real deals don't work like that. You get that endorphin rush because you are attracted to your partner because your body is telling you to go mate. If not, there will be no chemicals and therefore, no chemistry. What, you'd date someone you won't mate with? I'd like to know why.
Ennui.
The world can go die and I can't care.