This is going to read like rain on a day you’re stuck inside. The redundancy will stab you in the eyes with each passing word. Futility, is the symptom boredom is the illness. That’s why you’re here reading this, but it’s okay, because I share the
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sentiment. Otherwise I would be doing something else. If you say I’m not okay; I might lie to you to entertain myself. I am back where I was a minute ago; thinking about how to make me less restless and morose. I am also curious about the bass guitar and the song I am listening to, because it sounds great. Good song. Me, I’m okay. I am glad we had this time together though.
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