Honestly, I Don’t Know What I’m Doing

Do you ever feel like life is passing you by? 2019, thus far has been filled with moments, my calendar bears several marks. It was a haze of dinners and coffees, conversations that I could no longer recall, reconnecting with people I care about and sending off some people. I’ve established routines, I have broken promises, had a love and hate relationship with diet and fitness, and still wanting to be with someone but never date. Although I like being alone, it sometimes makes me quite uncomfortable because it gets me into thinking how sucky everything feels. I have fallen into a routine and I detest it. I want to do so many things but either I get lazy or I second guess myself.

At home I find myself distracted, never doing what I should be doing, having a debate with myself for as simple as going to a café to write, then letting the weather solve my indecision. Last weekend I was in a café in which I spotted a local actor. I went there intending to write, but I didn’t. For some reason, I didn’t want to ask the barista if they had WiFi. I didn’t feel like pulling the laptop out of my backpack. I just sat there, finished my sandwich and the most bitter flat white I have ever had in my life. After that I just stared outside, it was raining, the gloomy weather mirroring my current state.

Having backlogs in my blog is nothing new, but this has been the worse case of it. I am simply uninspired and paralyzed. I have stories left unwritten that have started to fade from my mind. Could I still write about these, do they still have relevance? But then this is my blog, it is only relevant to me. Only a few would take the time to read my posts, most wouldn’t even click.

Booking.com

Now that I mentioned it, what is the point of this blog then? Is it enough that I use it to help me remember? That in 2018 December I went to another continent, that I visited this café, wrote a review about this hotel, and a family member died in this or that year. I have paid hosting and domain, when I’m gone, nobody will renew them, and just like that, years of stories will be gone. So what is the point in all this? If the purpose is so that I could remember the things that I’ve done, then why am I not writing them as they happen? Why do I let the things that I want to look back on fade from memory?

The problem is I know what I should be doing, I just don’t do it. And I can’t say anything now that wouldn’t sound like I am making up excuses.

It seems to me that I have lost the ability to be brave. I don’t give as much f*cks as I used to, which is only good for ignoring people but detrimental to self-improvement. I have become lenient, relaxed, demotivated. I just rise, eat, do other normal shit, sleep, then repeat. I might as well be a cat.

I just don’t have the energy for things. Just now I saw on an Instagram story that a friend is celebrating her birthday, yet I couldn’t even make myself send a greeting.

The only thing I don’t procrastinate on is eating. Lately, I have been eating a lot, mostly carb-filled food. Several months ago I was on a keto diet, it helped me lose a lot of weight. Yet here I am, still filled with desires to have chiseled abs but empty on motivation. I don’t work out that much either. The only thing that’s been keeping the weight off is the intermittent fasting that I’ve been doing, at least with this one I am pretty consistent. If I could only keep the fire going in all other aspects of my life, I won’t even have to sit here and write this.

Should I just wait for this year to be over so I could give myself false motivation in the new year just like everybody else? Where do I even find motivation?

I am in a stump and I don’t know how long am I going to be in this state. Somebody drag me away from this hell.