the banal routines.md


The routine is a necessary evil, one that gives me tormented thoughts such as "I Miss The Days When I Was Insane," so unbound by the constraints of time that going to bed when I felt tired fluctuated across day and night. Even once the gym came into play, that had it's variance too, and rewarded me with sights of local strongman ∎∎∎∎∎ ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎ eating Chipotle between sets or turning into shuddering human jello as he pulled 6 pl8s, or even the occasional retard exercising his neck muscles with what looked like a medieval torture device. Such spectacles only happened past 12:30AM, otherwise known as "My Bedtime" in the current purgatory, one that gives little-to-no leeway for adventures.

That is what offends me: A responsibly led life of stability leaves no time for adventure, the strange&absurd, impulse, etc. In this shallow layer of existence, the only adventures are ones that can be bought, and frustratingly, scheduled. The trap is that you can only add and remove from the strict routine, the necessary evil, that keeps the job, the boyfriend, the physical fitness, and even the meager time to try and tap into artistic vision-- what used to be a fountain accessed on the fly.

Alas, I'm stuck here, with the knowledge the grass is always greener. It was the period free of strict routine that I longed to have one, depressed by the dark cloud of boredom and isolation that had rooted itself over my head.