Writer’s Block

For the past 3 weeks, I’ve wanted to write something, anything here, but found I have nothing “good” to say. No new insights. No helpful tidbits that might skew my thoughts enough to change my perception. Nothing but frustration about things I think I’ve pretty well covered in past posts.

Same shit, different day.

Today was a bad day, a very bad day — mentally and emotionally, and for no good reason I can come up with. It just was. Frustration prevents me from speaking my mind. Fear and paranoia prevent me from being truly open and honest. Doubt fuels my insecurity. And despair just keeps telling me, “Give up already.” She’s a trip, that one.

Worry set up camp in my mind, fueling a great many “daymares.” These internal arguments play out like flashbacks except — rather than flashing back into the past, these are more often possible future scenarios that end in a few raging choice words that aren’t pleasant at all. 

I wonder if “daymares” are a real thing. Does anyone else experience horrifying nuggets of imagination and anxiety that mix to form crazy daydreams that rival the worst nightmare?

I do.

Not sure how long these have been going on, but then again, I feel as though I’m caught somewhere between sleepwalking through life right now and numb disconnect. Maybe that’s simply my norm. Maybe it’s just that time of year. Where does it begin and where does it end? What triggers it? Maybe it’s not a continuous cycle but a never-ending state of mind. Brief moments of awareness send me right back there because everyone else’s reality sucks a little bit more than my own.

At least in my inner world, I have others to talk to. Loneliness and isolation are probably the worst symptoms of depression; but quite honestly, I don’t have the patience to deal with other people’s shit.

I digress. I apologize for the cynicism. It’s a shame that I rarely make myself write on the “good” days.

Coping seems to be the only solution. “Deal with it.” That’s the message I’m getting lately.

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