I feel very flat for some reason this evening, sunken into a state somewhere between ennui and moderate melancholy. I've been sitting here in front of my computer trying to think of something interesting to think about, and I can't. The only thing of note that strikes me is a certain irony: when you can't think of anything interesting to think about, there's no point in trying to write anything apart from a simple statement that you can't think of anything to think about. So now you know. Life really does seem to be ridiculously pointless sometimes.
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