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It’s a blasé kind of day. Nothing special, exciting, wrong. Idling time going by unnoticed, seeking solace in cigarette smoke, just one more cup of coffee.  Half finished thoughts of what I could accomplish, dishes, work, a walk outside. I’d rather be distracted by someone else’s imaginary real life, thank you Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Had I not run out of cigarettes, and needed to return a mediocre movie, I wouldn’t have even put on pants. It’s warm, and muggy outside. Or humid. Are they one in the same? Doesn’t much matter, I’m indifferent either way. With candles lit, song on repeat, I exhale the seconds away. Five hours passed in a flash between nothing and nowhere.  Maybe it’s apathy, but that sounds like a condition I’d rather not own up to. Or is apathy and indifference one in the same? The truth in the lie of the matter is I don’t really care. Not down and out, not up and in, nothing wrong, nothing nothing. I’m just… justing. If I could call it a feeling, I wouldn’t. A sensation, I couldn’t. Vague. Obtuse? Irrelevant at best. My ticking time spent with no emotional debt. I must admit, it’s nice for a change.