This might sound weird, but, sometimes I feel as if I need to stop living in the real world. It wasn't long ago that I used to transport myself to exotic worlds through books and anime, and those ventures in turn made real life's eccentricities all the sweeter. But without exercising my creativity for a while, all the world's become a mindless series of inputs and outputs to accrue money, keep a job, and worry incessantly about my loved ones. The days all seem to blend into one another, and though I still do the daily good deed or stumble across the occasional oddity, I lack words to properly appreciate it.
Obviously, this cannot stand. The people I make acquaintance with wouldn't be satisfied with this, so I doubt they'd be happy to see their friends in such a state either. Perhaps I'll bring a book along to work tomorrow. Assuming the man in the cubicle across from me isn't there, I'll have ample time to read the second chapter of Sherlock Holmes.
