What a drab existence, when removed from what running days scudded by weeks past. Plans even fail to summon strength enough to gurney me up and away. Trying to get from this stagnation should entitle me something enjoyable, but I need more friends than the creatures sparsely bold enough to just cross my path.
Wildlife? Nothing so wild there.
Should a stab at night-waking suffice? I can barely drape my eyelids above these starry eyes. I'm mute to a verbalization to my surroundings, can't ruse myself out of relapse upon relapse into bemused boredoms. It bewilders myself.
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