I think I'm bored. I think I'm slowly falling back into the realm of introverts. I'm starting to talk to myself - mentally. And while some self-thought can be a good thing, too much can be ... too much.
Before I went for my run this evening, I was writing the following:
I think I'm bored. I want to stay at home, yet I don't seem to want to. It's turning into a routine - morning runs, evening runs and tv. Ive just ran out of Lie To Me episodes to watch - analyzing people through their actions, inactions and micro-expressions.
I then resumed watching season 2 of The Mentalist, only to see Patrick Jane taken off from the Red John case and.....
I knew I had to end it there. I do not like to entertain neverending thoughts. So I left it hanging and went for a run.
However, the run turned into several short sprints and kilometers of walking. I was looking at cars and people and the evening sky. I saw a little boy learning how to walk, a lady talking on the phone, people waiting for the bus at the bus stop. I was reading signboards, bus numbers, block numbers, car plate numbers. I began to wonder what time it was. I looked over at the clock at the train station and it was almost a quarter to seven. I was twenty minutes behind time. I should've been home. I should've been sweating. But I wasnt. I was evening-dreaming.