Blah blah blah. Whine whine whine.
More filler so I can keep pretending that I’ve actually written something today. Five minutes a day, right? Holding the pattern. Never said it had to be anything good. But it still feels like cheating. I still feel crappy for not doing something creative, which was the whole point. I’ll still feel disappointed when I look back at this later and see yet another whiny filler post.
I don’t even have anything insightful to expound on. No new concepts of why storytelling is hard for me, or different approaches I might take, or analysis of my emotional state. I’m exhausted, I’m angry at myself and the world, I’m constantly stressed, I’m bored, and I can’t focus on anything. That’s it. That’s the entirety of my existence. I’ve had brief periods of happiness over the last few months, but it always drifts back to this.
I know some of the causes. I just don’t have enough energy or willpower to deal with any of them. It’s too stressful to think about. Everything’s too stressful to think about. Work most of all. I’m pretty sure I’m trapped and there are no good decisions. So why bother making any? Just drift until it falls apart, just like my last job.
Well, that’s five minutes. Exciting stuff, eh?