Dear Fiary Diary

Day 2

Hey Diary...

Funny thing how I sorta mix 'diary' and dairy', good thing I noticed — you would have identified as a milk.

Urm... It would have been lovely to be like, "Hey Diary" or "Dear Diary, I would like to tell you how my day went."

"I woke up this morning in my lovely bed, I'm grateful to God for life. I had the heater on, and bathed in my jacuzzi. After applying my relaxing and moisturizing cream, I sat on my deep dark colored massaging chair, for a relaxing and lovely section, before dressing up and getting into my day's matching car — it had to match my tie."

"Driving off the garage, the normal busy road was surprisingly free, thank God for answered prayers— and to think it was just a side prayer— let's not forget I had my 'me and God' section, before leaving the bed. The morning sun was barely out and I could feel the beauty the day already had for me"

And on and on, or probably something similar. But Muahahaha, come on, it's me we're talking about, I don't even know how to drive.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this isn't possible, but then, that barely even looks like what I'd call a waking morning, and I hate cars— as if I wasn't weird enough. I wouldn't say I hate hate cars, I just get car sick, yeah I hate traveling too — hmm, hate's a strong word, so I'll settle for "don't enjoy".

Growing up, entering public transports made me sick, and all 'pukey', I'd get sick and throw up everywhere. With time, or if put well, currently, I just get drowsy, and faintly nauseous. And you'd think it's only public transports. The bad news buddy?— private cars are not spared, especially if the windows are closed and the A.C turned on, straight up death sentence, sorta.

So that, definitely don't look like my waking morning.

Okay, so this is what's on play now though, and you know funny enough, I don't know if it's cause of my style — natural style— or something else. To compensate for my dislike for travels, I don't even like coming out. I basically love my indoor space.

Ahem... Reports reaching my ears, are that, I'm living on the boring side of life. So basically or 'whatevercally' some opinions suggest, my life is boring. But how can you say that ?— I mean my next point might not sound very convincing, coming from a guy who's talking to his Diary, but no way, that's not the case.

How can you brand me 'boring life', just cause I refuse to, lift myself off my — I really wish I could say couch now, but— bed, walk to my side of the wardrobe — all these alone are energy consuming, just imagine the amount of brain power I'm going to have to put— pick up an innocent cloth I painstakingly washed and properly kept for compulsory movements, put it on, and I might have to even get showered — I mean what if I only planned to shower later on or close to 6, or 7 pm, or even 9 pm, now I have to forward my schedule, why?— dress, put on my innocent slippers — I have a leather pams slippers, just one for that matter — walk down the stairs, all for what? To roam about aimlessly without direction or destination or even purpose, all in the name of strolling, who invented this crime?

So no thank you. I mean I love my mind, do you know how many conversations or dramas my head would have played if we just sit tight?— okay on second thought, I don't know if I'm truly in love with my head, okay I said in love with 'mind' not head, hehe, sweet difference.

I mean, I could be thinking, or sulking or actually thinking, or even trying to clear my head, and you want me to commit this crime of stressing my beautiful legs, just for "strolls" as our enemies call em. No thank you. And who says it's laziness?

You think sitting down to actually craft out scenes and series of things in the head is lazy work? Hah, try being a writer, or one with the dream of being one, when fight scenes take you all evening or all day. I mean, you have it in your head, but when it's time for the pening, you'll know sitting back and head foraging is no where close to laziness.

But then , on a second note, it's not like I'm constantly cooking up or trying to cook up what next to write, most days that's barely the case. But then, I love 'me' time, except when I don't.

How do I put it? Hmm... There is time for everything aye? So most times I want to be left to my devices, other times, I want appreciable company.

Speaking about companies, it's not easy finding core people. And by core people, I'm referring to people who literally don't make conversations so difficult. You'd wonder why someone makes you do all the askings, and still expect or want you to keep the flow, I mean what flow exactly? What do these people want? I mean most times I'm already going out of my way to want to have these conversation and you leave me in limbo to literally, hold and keep this time exhausting conversation.

But really though, if I look at this particular matter, it's not really like that — I mean for me. Most times I really care and want to reach out, leaving normal conversations aside, you know, just wanting to be there and be a wall for someone or something along those lines, but sometimes it's a wall hit. Well I used to feel this way before now.

But I guess not anymore.

There was a time, I disliked social media, chatting — I wasn't a text person— didn't fancy talks, not that I was all gloomy and without a life, but I just wasn't there. Well still a past thing... I guess someone happened

So Dear Diary, seems I rambled on today, I hope tomorrow I have something nicer to tell you