Recovery A3

The boredom has driven anyone to do weird things. Some learn new skills or a new hobby. Some build things or make art from odd materials.

I find myself in a abandoned library reading every book and everything I can hack into... since there was whole sections about computers, technology, and even a handy staff guide to making the basement generator work again. A whole ton of self-help things.

I could not stop wanting to read and summarizing things. To practice simple exercises in the education sector.

Built a whole computer up from scraps of busted fried machines around here.

I love the cook book section too. Scrapped up a few attempts in recipe replicas. I had even gotten green thumbs with growing my food in the hot window area.

The more morbid was my labeling sticky notes on a skeleton; Latin, Spanish and English. This skeleton was likely a kids section decoration for Halloween or science learning. I had thought it were a fake plastic thing... nope.

There is attempted labels of Welsh English, amused by the strange string odd letters for simple items. I am not making fun of it. I simply entertained with how wonderful and strange I find it.

I busted in the locked sections too, old historical records of the local area. The sort you need gloves to turn pages with. Bonded in human skin maybe.... What the heck is wrong with me?

The olde English was even more harder to twist my mind into reading but I manage it eventually. Blurting out the occasional phrases that without context was funny.

Long periods of walking around in a patterned meandering while nose deep in a fictional story.

Some books were quiet x rated... To my surprise of finding in a library. But then again, hardly anyone would think to find such graphic images among dull pages.

I had me rechecking organ names, some reason or another. Reading studies of animal and human anatomy. Drooling a little.

The odd responses has me consider. I will continue making notes of other strange things I am going nuts with doing.

My mental health kicked the bucket since locking myself in this world of books and imagination. yet.... It were giving me a purpose to keep curious and yearning to live another day.

So I can only continue to complain to the bone skeleton covered in crude post stick notes.