Dear Diary,

I am now completely bored out of my mind with worry and concern.
The days have become rotisserie, and the internet is a ruse -
A prison – and a narrow window for an endless attempt at perfection.
I have found Tinder to be a great distraction.
Yes, that digital pit of indifference towards romantic spectacle.
Yes, that find-and-fuck phone application.
Well, I met a girl on there. There photos were fine,
but I got off more on the fact that something was happening
to fill the monotony of urban life below the poverty line.
We barely spoke – And I used to find such things appealing,
but that night it was only ghost-like and groundless.
I did what I could, but I was no fun. I have learned
I need to feel wanted in order to tap into my old debauchery -
A paradox indeed. I feel ashamed – The city had high hopes for my soul.
I shall not be doing it again.