summer pit

Maybe it’s summer and the fact that despite my life being pretty and busy right now, it also feels like not much is going on. I’ve let this place feel a little bit more empty and silent than it has been in months, maybe even years.

I’ve started writing posts and then dismissing them because they didn’t feel right. My head and/or heart wasn’t in them and I didn’t want to be posting for posting’s sake like I did in the past. All the drafts I have don’t feel worthy of putting out into the open.

I haven’t spent a lot of time in front of my computer at home the last couple of weeks which is also not normal for me. Instead, I watched Netflix on my TV in the living room and read, mostly fanfiction and not so much real fiction but what really constitutes realness? The fact that I can tick it off on Goodreads? Is the 200,000+ word fanfic about a female Sherlock and a female Watson set during WW2 less real? Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m straying away from my point though. I’ve still spent a lot of my time in front of screens, just different ones than my computer.

I’ve neglected my responsibilities around the house and instead of plucking weeds from my garden, I opted to go running instead. I’ve sat motionless in the darkened living room while it was the height of summer outside too hot and too tired to move.

I’ve been lazy and tired. In dire need of a vacation which is finally approaching.

I keep wondering if this is all really worth it. If all the time I spend online talking to myself or consuming stuff is what I should be doing with my time instead of cleaning, gardening, being a better person etc. In the end though, what I want to be doing after I get home from work is nothing. Watching TV or reading story after story so that I can get lost in the illusion that my life is fuller than it is. Forget my loneliness.

I don’t want to be complaining about my life not being full because it is. Just this weekend, I was at the theatre, went hiking by myself (which seems to be an introvert’s dream come true) and cooked with friends. It was a lot of stuff happening and yet I feel tired. Of everything.

When I was in second grade, I was really sick. I don’t know what it was and the doctors didn’t find anything wrong with me either. I was just checking out of life or at least that’s how I remember it from all the times my family mentioned it. I spent four weeks at the North Sea during summer break and I was better afterwards. I sometimes wonder if that mysterious illness never fully left me and is sometimes still responsible for my lethargy. I’m also pretty sure that I lost my ability to have a steady hand through this but that may as well be my imagination. Sometimes I can’t tell truth from stuff that happened in my dreams or imagination.

The truth is, I don’t know what to do with this place. I feel like I don’t have any of the great thinky posts to write and if I do, they’re always the same. It all seems so unimportant; unworthy.

I keep thinking about self love and whether I truly know how that works or if I’m just kidding myself thinking I do because I keep finding places in my being that are not what they should be. Places of fear, anxiety and shame.

I don’t know anything anymore right now. I’m drifting. I feel lost. Maybe it’s summer. Let’s just hope it’s summer and that time away from home will reinstate some of my drive. Until then, I leave you with this:


hold my hand; i feel like i’m falling

hold my heart; i feel like i’m breaking

hold me tight; i feel like i’m disappearing

i say to no one because i realise i have nobody to hold me


too close to an existential crisis
or maybe i’m already in it
maybe is the word of the day
of the month, maybe

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