My days are consumed by substantial bouts of nothingness. I like to get "lost in one's thoughts," or, as I like to call it, "daydream" hourly. In the midst of my trivial and meaningless monkey-style data processing and amateurish graffiti drawing (an art in which I have no personal inclination to better myself), I randomly zonk out. You can find me staring at a static computer screen, blank wall or even innocent passerby with an empty gaze on my face, resembling of a coma patient, as I have been told by my brother. I need something to do.
I don't like summer.
