It’s raining, quite heavily. Astro’s out as is usual, not like I was watching it anyway, just had it on mute, flickering at me so as not to disturb a certain slumbering someone. It’s past 12 midnight which means essentially it’s Monday already. Hm, don’t feel blue yet, that’s good I suppose.

I was just thinking of how bored I always feel. Nothing seems to interest me very much. Life just seems to plod on at a sedate pace with nothing but drab scenery all around. Whenever I dwell on it for even a short period of time it’s enough to set of an extended round of moodiness and depression. Conjuring things to look forward to does help to an extent of making the drudgery more bearable but it’s just a temporary means.

I want a passion that lasts, an interest that sustains. I guess it’s the cliché of wanting to find meaning, a reason for continuing to live, a purpose. Without it, everything seems so trivial, so unnecessary, such a complete and utter waste of time. And all the while time just slips by unchecked. I dare not think about a future filled with this never-ending emptiness.

There has to be something more than this.