… now are solitude (hence, loneliness) and boredom—those two make me a sloth, really. I want to write but I’m lazy, napping is not that refreshing anymore, and reading is not that exciting cos the stories are too thin.
All I want is a company, to just talk and be around me.
Only practicing violin makes me happy, but still my hands and shoulders could not cooperate as long as my heart wants. Oh well, maybe I should start cooking with Mom….
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