This is the end.

It is an end of January and I feel that I run out of any indpendent thought. Not only independent but any. This must be a brain rot.

I was sick whole January, and maybe that is why I only scrolled; I never was into that. Moreover, I have no curiosity in me. I feel intro and I don't feel like anything outro.

I went swimming today, but that was rubbish – I lost my breath after a hundred metres.

I tried to contemplate life, but that turned out to be boring.

I had an idea to cook something tasty, but I lost sense of taste, and, if that's not enough, my stomach felt disinterested, so we could not find a meaningful compromise.

Then, I thought a walk would help, but the weather was miserable – I didn't want to be out there and see all that cold, hibernating misery.