Today I feel like saying that life's boring and sad, that blogging is boring and sad, that everything is boring and sad. And it's all because I hate being so far from the person I love, I hate my work and I hate hating. The hatredom somehow finds its way through every corner of my inner and outer world, corrupting it very subtly, so that I in fact think that life's boring and sad. Really, I cannot see myself in two years time. And that kills me.