Boredom

Boredom.
It's an odd one to understand. Right now i'm extremely bored despite the wealth of activities i could be engaging myself with.
In my room there's over two hundred books, any one of which i'd enjoy reading again.
Not bothered
Daves poi are three steps away and i could go outside and swing them a little.
Couldn't be arsed
There's a plethora of movies lying around and three rooms close by to watch them in.
Meh.
Right now i'm on the internet, the world is literally at my fingertips.
So?
I've money in my pocket and it's only ten to ten, Pub perhaps?
Not in the mood.
I could clean my room, cook some food, paint some models, listen to music, write a book.

Hold on a second, I'm writing, suddenly i'm not so bored.

But I started writing to do something about the boredom.

It worked but now I've nothing to write about because the boredom has passed.

But i'm still writing, about nothing.
This makes no sense, If I'm writing about Boredom because i'm bored and writing removes the boredom, then I'm writing about nothing and simply wasting my time.
But stopping writing will allow the boredom to return and i'll realise that writing did nothing about the boredom except make it slightly more interesting.
Dear God I just found Boredom interesting.

I'm going back to being bored.