We as Humans

Boredom.

I have no attention span.

People bore me. Things bore me. I leave things undone because I loose an original interest without something new to look for. Once I figure out the plot of something I stop paying attention to watch it play out. I'm selfish and lack the interest to carry a conversation that has nothing new to present. I won't bother winning if I don't care about the prize. I only search out company when I'm bored of my own mind. I'll continue to do something that makes me unhappy more so than something I've lost interest in. My talent for figuring out the end of movies ruins my ability to finish watching them. I have so little interest in anything. I'm terrified of being as tedious as I find the things so commonly around me. I want to be purple in a grey world. Yet sometimes I think that's it only me and my eyes that are grey. That I will never find color because I have no color. But I become even bored with that thought.

I'm not bored of writing this collection. I simply keep leaving things half done. Currently working on a poem called September and a theory type thing called Association.