..what listless truly means. And I don’t like it one bit.

It was ironic, cause I thought not having a list of stuff to do this weekend would be a good thing. Turned out it was not. And I was overwhelmed with lethargy and ended up watching one show after another.

I didn’t do anything productive. I did go shopping yesterday in Chinatown and bought new handbags, a whole bunch of necklaces and crystal jewelery. That satisfied me for a bit but then the exhaustion gave way to boredom.

Sometimes I wonder why I feel this way. I tell myself it’s normal but it does bother me a lot that I just can’t be at peace.

I did the grocery shopping this morning. My parents were out in the yard as usual. There’s always something to do there. They can’t sit still. I think anxiety runs in the family.

I was gonna have coffee with an old friend. But he probably forgot. And I don’t want to come across as needy. So I didn’t call to remind him. It doesn’t matter, I’m probably not in the right frame of mind for company anyway.

A friend called me after an overnight trip out of town. As usual he’s whining about something. I was watching a Friends marathon at the time. His whining was the last thing I needed to hear. Still, I persisted and tried to be as emphatic as I possibly could. He didn’t linger for very long, excused himself with laundry. Probably he could sense my disinterest.

Almost 5pm, the bloody weekend is almost over. I remain apathetic and detached from everything and everyone. I don’t know what I would call it. I don’t think I’m any danger to myself, it this borders along depression. Sometimes I wish something great would happen in the next five minutes. As if this lull of nothingness, my killing time doing nothing is a meaningless feat that defies any coherent definition. And yet I persist. Hoping something would lift me and my spirits once again.