prime time of my life
the extension of the lockdown has hit me hard.
i look at my backlogs of media to consume and then it hits me "fuck! sun's down already? where did the hours of my day went?" try as i might, planning my days in hourly chunks can only do so much when every now and then i'm stunned into a sober stupor staring into something of zero significance. that's where my days have been going - being an unproductive mess. look at me, chiding the idiots that aren't being particularly productive during the lockdown. i've become a much worse version of them.
i've burned out at being a bum.
it doesn't help that a lifelong struggle i've had is that every now and then i sink into a depressive phase that royally fucks up any mode or magnitude of motivation that i managed to maintain through moments of mania. mental health is real, and it's can be devastating. but i still hold that it's such a privileged affliction that i believe my condition should be downplayed as much as possible. i mean, c'mon, i'll feel down, i'll feel unmotivated, i'll slip into and get stuck in a cycle that supplementarily substantiates the senselessness of my existence - but am i shitting out blood? are my lungs full of phlegm? do i need radiation therapy? is my ability to fight off viral infections compromised from getting fucked up the butt one too often?
exactly.
the world has much bigger problems to deal with than a middle class whiner who bitches about being compelled to have a lazy day.
i look at my backlogs of media to consume and then it hits me "fuck! sun's down already? where did the hours of my day went?" try as i might, planning my days in hourly chunks can only do so much when every now and then i'm stunned into a sober stupor staring into something of zero significance. that's where my days have been going - being an unproductive mess. look at me, chiding the idiots that aren't being particularly productive during the lockdown. i've become a much worse version of them.
i've burned out at being a bum.
it doesn't help that a lifelong struggle i've had is that every now and then i sink into a depressive phase that royally fucks up any mode or magnitude of motivation that i managed to maintain through moments of mania. mental health is real, and it's can be devastating. but i still hold that it's such a privileged affliction that i believe my condition should be downplayed as much as possible. i mean, c'mon, i'll feel down, i'll feel unmotivated, i'll slip into and get stuck in a cycle that supplementarily substantiates the senselessness of my existence - but am i shitting out blood? are my lungs full of phlegm? do i need radiation therapy? is my ability to fight off viral infections compromised from getting fucked up the butt one too often?
exactly.
the world has much bigger problems to deal with than a middle class whiner who bitches about being compelled to have a lazy day.
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