Boredom isn’t just an occasional frustration—it’s the absolute worst. And for me, nothing is more boring than doing nothing.
You know those people who say they love having a day with nothing to do? I don’t get it. Sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for time to pass—it’s unbearable. If I’m not cooking, writing, gaming, watching TV, or at least watching birds not visit my feeder, I feel like I’m wasting away.
Some people call that “relaxing.” I call it torture. My brain starts pacing like a caged animal, searching for something—anything—to latch onto. Maybe I should write something. Maybe I should cook.
Even when I try to embrace the nothingness, it doesn’t last long. Sitting still with no purpose makes me restless. My hands itch to be busy, my mind starts crafting to-do lists, and before I know it, I’ve found something to do—because I have to.
So, what bores me? Nothing. Literally.



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