Why Do I Even Bother Novels & Stories

"Listen, neither do I want your breakfast nor your tv! Will you just tell me what you wanted to talk about?" He smirked and started to leave "give me a few minutes Miss Brook. It's just a call." He said. That asshole! I roamed from this channel to that. But I didn't find anything worth watching. Sometimes forgetting your responsibilities or problems might make you feel relaxed. But they are still there. You can't run from them. Today I had no interviews. But tomorrow I have three.

Don't overdo it. I don't know how I could possibly do any less physical activity. I've read three books this week. Scrolled through my phone until my eyes burned. Binged every mindless show N*****x has to offer until the characters' voices blur together into meaningless noise. The boredom is almost worse than the pain— it gives my mind too much space to wander into dangerous territory.

I sighed as I thought these things, don't know why but I think too much about everything, uh I just need to put a stop to my imagination otherwise I"be just dreaming here without actually doing anything or maybe I'm just overthinking things yeah maybe all the things which I noticed Is pretty randomly. Damn the suspicious thing and suspense I can't resist it. Besides, I don't even know that something like this is happening or there is some mystery behind it. So, why not just forget about everything for today and enjoy this day in all most pleasured manner maybe you can make it memorable maybe it is the day that you can never forget just keep aside rest and do your suspicious another day alre

Too quiet. I walk through my rounds, checking charts, responding to routine calls, but there is nothing urgent. No emergencies. No distractions. Normally I would be grateful, but today it just leaves too much room in my head to wonder... to think... I sit at my desk for a moment, staring down at my phone. Don’t. I press my thumb against the edge of it, biting my nail as I argue with myself. He is busy. You don’t want to distract him. You already talked this morning.

Because instead of forgetting, instead of letting it fade into something insignificant, I become obsessed. With it…. With the why? With the how? With The Who? I become obsessed with the curiosity of unraveling it all and the more I try to rationalize it, the more It sits at the back of my mind like an itch I can’t scratch, it’s quiet at first when I try to suppress it but then it’s loud, it becomes louder and louder as if it’s clawing at the seams of my sanity until it’s all I can think about in between sentences, in between breaths, in between pretending I’m fine.

Shallowness has no species. I scan the crowd, hoping for something – anything – more interesting. Some dramatic teen scandal, a fight, a breakup, a betrayal – just something juicy to sink my teeth into. But nope. Come on, Universe, nothing? I question inwardly, a little desperate. But appreantly the Universe is dry today. Where’s the chaos when I need it? I think wrily.

Konstantinos The day drags on, and the damn feeling of discomfort persists. What's wrong with me? Why is the new intern occupying my thoughts in such an irritating way? I must be going crazy. I need to focus on work and put aside these senseless wanderings. Finally, the meeting is coming to an end, and my team starts to disperse. I can't let this obsession continue to dominate me. I need to concentrate on the day's tasks and not waste any more time thinking about an intern.

I always went home two hours earlier. And that was another problem; the fact I got home so early. I had nobody to hang out with, so what did I do? Clean the flat until my hands burned. Go jogging for hours and hours. Read all the books I had. Not only was I bored, I felt as if everything around me was just so ... bothersome. Why bother dressing nicely? Why bother going out? Why do anything at all? Nobody saw me, nor did anybody judge me. What sense did it make? I had lost it all, what more could I lose?

Could be anything, really. Like every other person in the world, I have my limitations. I don’t like myself, don’t think anyone does. Not with the temper that I always bristle with. After all, people stay away from those who make a scene. And the experience I have in that department, it’s impossible to break that record. But causing a scene and drawing unwanted attention to yourself doesn’t happen out of a hobby. No one enjoys the look of ‘what a weirdo’ people define them with. No one. Trust me.

What am I even thinking? I threw my head back against the couch, exhaling loudly. Just lying here was tiring. I needed something—anything—to pull me away from this endless cycle of thoughts. Grabbing my phone, I started scrolling through random pages, but nothing held my interest. Then, something hit me—I hadn’t received any of those cryptic messages lately. I had been so busy that I hadn’t even noticed. My brows furrowed. Maybe the good-for-nothing bastard finally decided to stop messing with me.