All Work And No Play

Makes Jack a Dull Boy.

Poor Jack. A dull boy. He isn’t dull in the sense that he is boring, though I am certain he has become uninteresting. Rather, Jack is a dull boy because his senses are dull. His creativity has dulled. His mind is dull, his emotions are dull, everything about him speaks of a boy who no longer lives, but merely exists.

There was a time, I’m confident, when Jack was a bright, happy boy. There was an age, I am sure, where Jack loved to write, to read, to draw, paint, sing, dance, and imagine. There was a time, I am most assured, when Jack was a dreamer, when he looked to the stars and saw worlds the human eye could never discern on its own, but I am most positive he saw them dancing around their distant suns.

Jack works hard. He is by no means lazy, he is simply dull. He has no time for play, no time to slip free of his chains and float on the current, or even to simply shut down the constant whirring of the gears in his mind. Jack finds no rest, he finds no pleasure in the solace. Jack is lonely, though not alone. He is not evil, quite the contrary, Jack seeks to do good, but in doing good there is much work.

Should you encounter him in your travels, do not be alarmed when you meet him for though he appears dead, he is not. He is merely a dull boy.

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