Yeah, you heard me. I'm so dedicated to being lazy, it's disgusting. Someone shoot me in the face right now. I stick to the almost meaningless things in life, the things that entertain for only a few hours. I watch and analyse movies, I religiously follow sports (and delve into fantasy leagues), I can listen to music for hours on end, I read anything and everything, I take walks when I need to cool off, and I sing and play music for however fucking long I want to. Yet, why am I not happy? Why does life work in such confusing ways? Maybe this is the time to take a walk outside to cool off, maybe I need to lie in the grass and take that nap under the shade of the trees. Why can't I find my niche? Have I taken too many things on and confused myself so greatly that I'll never find it? How long do I have to wait? Why can't I have a revelation now? Do I have to look all over the globe? Excuse me while I engage in an epic-overload of the things I'm good at, which isn't much.
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