Monday, June 07, 2004
This is a post about not having much to say. I don't do much, so there's little to talk about.
But.
For some reason, I'm happy. I'm contented without knowing why. It's so far the opposite of what I've felt like for a million years (three? five? a decade?) that I don't really know what to think. The thought of my future was so terrifying to contemplate for so long that there are times now when I look up from my work and marvel. I'm tired. I have just a few hours to myself each day, which I generally spend resting. But I'm happy. That's all I ever really wanted.
also I'm boring
But.
For some reason, I'm happy. I'm contented without knowing why. It's so far the opposite of what I've felt like for a million years (three? five? a decade?) that I don't really know what to think. The thought of my future was so terrifying to contemplate for so long that there are times now when I look up from my work and marvel. I'm tired. I have just a few hours to myself each day, which I generally spend resting. But I'm happy. That's all I ever really wanted.
also I'm boring
