I live a horrible boredom, an unspeakable desire for novelty.

By now they are all the same speeches, people who speak, who judge, thinking that other people have not “learned to love”, rather, worse: “no one has taught them”.

Or maybe, I say, MAYBE, he does not do it as you would like, but don’t worry, by now I have also learned to understand that those who love do not judge.

Yet, we all know how to be rational, with the hearts of others, a different way of saying, the famous proverb, right? “Everyone is gay …. With the ass  of the others “.

And I’m tired, I’m sick, I don’t know if I want to go out, I do it anyway.

But everything is now so boring, repetitive, always the same stories.

It would take a little silence, perhaps peace is far from here. It is in the frenzy of the big cities, where, paradoxically, it is easier to maintain ties, because they are something to keep in your pocket and not to be waved to the rooftops, in short.

And in this boredom that I worry,

that I don’t find the right energies, where everything seems more foolish, because rationality is static, boring, and it’s always that almost forced explanation for everything, since humans need it, right? There is always a need for a logical explanation, because we are afraid.

Some things, I’ve learned, don’t need any rationalization. You fall in love, that’s just the way it is. Why have to chase something you can’t find? Things remain, it is the only truth I know.

Rationalization is only a buffer, often illusory, that gives us the facade of apathy, the vacuous protection against the terrible “feelings”.

And it gets bored.

And I almost need something dramatic, because I’m hungry for stories to write, to tell. I almost look for trouble, if only I weren’t so tired, I would still do it, but it’s all gone.

Now the same stories give me boredom and nausea, and here I am, perhaps having exhausted the source of inspiration, the pain, the paranoia.

After all, the desire to write drops when you don’t see the results, when you see other people writing absurd platitudes and doing more numbers than you.

Bah.

Yes, but I wrote the same again.

Here I am.