Definite failure of will to triumph over circumstances over the past few days. Or even just to triumph over the dark mornings and the call of a few minutes extra sleep. My days are not unlived by any means, but they’re slipping past all the same; I don’t think they’re chewed properly; I’ve no time or inclination to digest them before I’m eating up the next lot.
I have a task list this morning, and my mind is on that rather than being here with myself for the duration of writing. But, you know, it’s not like I want to work through my task list. It bores me, all of it. Even the supposedly exciting stuff.
What’s pulling at me right now? Most of all a desire to go back to sleep. Generally a bad sign for my emotional state. I mean, sure, fair enough, I probably am a little low in my sleep reserves – especially after being away for an hour in the middle of the night. But even so, that can usually be countered by having some sense of excitement, some sense of a thrill about something in the day ahead.
But right now, everything just feels obligation nothing feels joyful. Nothing feels like something I want to do.
Sleep deprivation? Hormones? Generalised ennui? I don’t really know. But I do know what I have to do about it. Fake it. Keep going through the motions of a life that’s enjoyed until I come out the other side of this fog and start enjoying stuff for real again.
In small moments there are small joys. I’m separated from feeling them right now, but I can observe them. I just have to wait for a thinning of the glass for it to get through again.
This solid glass coating that grows on me sometimes seems to come from an unknown place. I don’t notice it creeping over my flesh, over my mind, keeping me from touching or even wanting to be touched, until one morning I wake, fully encased. I know it will eventually crack and then piece by piece it will peel away, exposing raw emotion underneath. That maybe sounds worse, but it’s not. Not feeling anything is the worst. It looks like I’m coping better when I’m glass-coated. It looks like I’m not dealing at all when I’ve too much new-born sensitive emotion exposed to the air, but that’s not true. It’s the other way ’round.
G.’s grandmother claimed that 90% of emotion was tiredness. I’ll go further and say that enough tiredness can actually cause a shutdown of emotion. So maybe I really do need more sleep. Or maybe I just crave it, because it’s a sweet escape that allows time to pass without having to go through the boring motions of living through that time.
Would you listen to me?! The very person who claims to want a thousand years of life, but then I’m not even economical with the precious time that’s given to me in the first place.
My mind has drifted back into the sticky nostalgia-pit of my teenage years. I just caught myself, mid-stare, mid-thought, with tea cooling beside me, reliving some old, fairly pointless memories. It’s alluring to drift back into the time when you existed as a ball of pure potential and the world lay out before you, ripe for picking and choosing the best possibilities.
I hate collapsed wave functions.
But if you don’t collapse them, you get nothing either.
I have superimposed probabilities existing simultaneously.
I hate thinking.
I hate not thinking.
I hate having to work for it.
But if you don’t work for it, it feels meaningless.
But I love the feeling of having purpose. That what I do matters and that it’s right and fits not only with what I have chosen for myself, but with what I would choose again if given such an opportunity.
I love feeling right and neat, with no gaps and no left-over screws.
I want to click. I don’t need to click with other humans, just with myself and my own life-goals and beliefs.
I feel a bit out of sync with all that right now.
I can’t even commit to finishing a bloody paragraph at the moment. I’m thinking in terse bullet points without the energy to extend them, expound upon them, explore. I want someone else to do it for me, but then to still get to feel like I accomplished something.
But nothing in gives nothing out for most functions that depend entirely on the input. At best you’ll get back what you started with, and if that’s got value – yay – but mostly you’ll just feel like you’re not moving.