This is my normal Sunday evening. Anxious because of the next week. Tired due to not getting enough sleep. Disappointed in myself for not doing anything for myself I’d enjoy.
Did nothing today. Went well.
I wish I had a perspective, an idea. Instead, I go on for the sake of going on.
I want to go home. Now.
Zero fucks given. None whatsoever.
I don’t like my weekends. And I dread every following week.
I get to sleep a lot, which is fine. But it also prevents me from doing anything else I might actually enjoy. It’s not that I don’t need the sleep, I absolutely do. But I can’t make any plans while I might fall asleep any minute. There already were multiple possibilities for disaster.
Still. I’m here writing this while I listen to a video instead of going to sleep. This is the most stupid thing, but sleeping only brings tomorrow faster. And I really do not want it to be tomorrow. If I could stop time, I would.
I got a bunch of old photos from my childhood and was kind of looking through them. Why that only brought unhappy feelings, I don’t understand.
I don’t like where I’m at right now and I wonder what I should have done and do now to be in a better spot.
I’m weary. And sometimes I’m tired of trying.