(In my awesome yet amateur British accent)

I must say, this letter is a huge paradox. I am writing to YOU knowing that YOU do not exist. Somehow, I do feel obliged to note that most people call you when their time is spared. But you see, boredom, you are not a sign of 'the end' of what we are doing, I see you as a notice that we have a lot of possibilities knocking at our door. And you are sort of a moral reminder.

Ah, the opportunities. The odds that we, ourselves, might create a series of events (be it fortunate or not) and in some point channel what we've done to the greater good (if one chooses to). And as we produce this 'idea' we might not ignore you, rather, we'd be thankful that YOU showed up. And IF a single consequence leads to BIGGER, BETTER and MORE (!!!) concoction, then, boredom, we can't thank YOU enough!

So, I declare that people who are bored must (they will) pay attention to the chances before them so that someday, they'll look back on the day they we're bored and will thank YOU for your presence that day.

And if they aren't aware that you are the reason for most things, I must share the thoughts I have and maybe word will spread out and humanity might be encouraged to get bored and do things and stuff that brings them inner bliss.

After all, this essay is a product of you, boredom.



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