Reading Dostoevsky

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I was reading Dostoevsky and he is right in saying that utopia is bad. What we, as humans are moving towards is not what we would like. Like, we have made our life easy but it has also made it dull. We ache for some fun, some feeling. Anything, hell, we even ache for suffering. We have made our life too easy. There will come a time, or maybe it is right now that we ache for some sort of suffering that breaks this numb dullness. 

I myself haven't had any problem in this last ond year and that is what people should hope for, right? But instead I keep hoping for someone to make me feel, instead of this dull nothing. I'll be honest, I don't know how to entertain myself. Maybe it's the depression but I don't feel like doing anything I used to like. My interactions with other are minimal. I just stay on my own thinking all this nonsense. 


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