So f*cing bored. Is all life acquiring and spending, crummy tv shows, competing !

So f*cing bored. Is all life acquiring and spending, crummy tv shows, competing for things, drudge routine,?

pointless chatter?

1 week ago
I just can't get interested in anything and as a kid I was so enthusiastic about so many things and interested in so many subjects

1 week ago
Ps - i'm on antidepressants and they do nothing for me

1 week ago
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!

hamlet

1 week ago
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon - come armageddon!
Come, armageddon! come!

Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
...that they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come - nuclear bomb

Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
(and on your face...)
(on your face ...)
(on your face ...)
(on your face ...)

Everyday is like sunday
Win yourself a cheap tray
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey

morrisey

NOFX LYRICS - "The Bag"

Endless evenings of non-exist
Are getting shorter, monotonous
Like an intruder, I belong outside
Although I find myself right back
The same place I was before
Saying things I'd say once more
There's no reason for me to be here, no
I feel so lonesome, surrounded by friends
Who are talking about me, saying things I could care less about
This dialogue is without
Worth, content, significance
Conversational ambivalence
Hear the same things every night, it just ain't right
I'm not the one to hold the bag
Give me something I can sink my teeth into
Show me a time, tell me a story
That I haven't heard a million times before
I pass out from boredom
As I watch the people pass
I see moments in their lives, nothing fascinating
Are we all living for the past, never realizing
We're clinging to an empty bag
Lacking content, significance
Conversational ambivalence
Say the same thing every night, it just ain't right
We'll see who's left holding the bag