last 5 wrds:

"brat "

I am having a real hard time shaking the feeling of general unease.

The undefined dread

The lingering self-hate.

When I am not productive, I freak out.

I need to get busy.

Lately I do nothing but what I have to do.

In rare (and brief) “creative” bursts, I write about how I don’t write.

I spend more time planning to exercise than I do exercising.

It’s like I’m waiting for something to happen.

I’m doing nothing to change things.


Maybe I need to quit my job.

I would believe that…except I remember how unmotivated I was before I started working. Maybe I need to create a project within the job I care about.

Maybe I need to be more drastic.

Go back to school.

Leave the country.

Blah, blah, blah…

I’m disgusted at myself for writing the above.

I am a broken record.

A dim-witted country song.

It would be one thing if I was bound by debt. Or had a family to support. Or any number of factors that I could blame for my lack of progress.

I am the spoiled brat who sulks during their own party.

I’m sick of myself.


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