A Reflection on why I’m Sighing:
I just can’t get into anything.
One of the most horrific things ever would be losing the energy to do somethin because the passion that was previously in you, to work like a dog to achieve that something, has dwindled. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but if I went to the Doctor they would say nothing was wrong, if I went to my parents, they would just command me to stop being moody and to focus on something productive. Because mothers and fathers are typically—usually—always—the people you should take dollops of advice into consideration, I tried to do something productive. Work on image, work on Bloom, work on the new audio project. But my fingers are like loose strings of flesh just hanging from my hand, limp and drenched in the attitude of laziness like a sagging, dilapidated house.
I can’t get into anything right now—like I can’t get into writing or reading or recording or editing; at this moment all I can wrap my head around is the replay button of overwatched YouTube videos.
Picture from Elizabeth Lies on Unsplash.