A mind in exile

I’m finally feeling clear headed and inspired enough to put some of my personal thoughts down on “paper” again. Not a great deal has happened in terms of adventuring lately, which is the main reason for my silence; although other things of a rather disquieting nature have. Mainly, my health seems to be declining, which is making me more and more anxious as the days go by. I’m due to see my GP in a couple of weeks (good old NHS waiting lists!) and I’ve got a feeling he’ll have some bad news for me. I won’t go into detail now, as I don’t know anything for sure, but let’s just say that the light that used to be on in the distance is dimming somewhat. I might have to start putting the chairs on the tables soon.

That last sentence sounded so melodramatic that I want to shake myself. Even the title of this post is pretty wanky, but that’s just how I’m feeling. I can’t stop how I’m feeling.

Anyway, my creative side is at an all time low, although I get a burst of inspiration every other day or so. My head’s very clouded and I’m struggling to know why I should bother anymore. I’d blame this negativity on coming off my antidepressants, but I was more motivated before I went on them ten years ago. So I’m concerned it’s something else.

This week I seem to be getting into reading again, which in turn is flaring up my interest in writing (hence this). I’ve got a couple of larger fiction projects going on simultaneously, so I’ll try tackling either one of those at some point over the weekend.

Music-wise, I keep practicing guitar every day, although even this is minimal. I just do some finger exercises and a few chords and scales, then I’m done. The usual “…and then I jammed for a good hour or so” seems to have gone.

What’s keeping me ticking over is my daily routine, which involves video games, movies and the pub. If I didn’t have my well-trod routine to work to, I’d probably not get out of bed at all. Most days I wish I didn’t even wake up.

I can tell how low my self-esteem is by how much stock I put into playing the lottery each week. When I don’t find that email from the lottery people in the morning after each draw, I just want to cry. I’ve convinced myself that nothing else will get me out of this shithole, and then even that probably won’t improve my health.

The one flicker of positivity I have is that there’s a person I like and I think they like me too. I’m good at building things up in my head about, well, everything, so I’m not going to do anything unless they give me a sign that something’s up. I’m pretty passive about these things and usually too shy to say anything, so nothing will probably ever come of it. All I know is that I’ve not felt this strongly about anyone in years. Not even my ex-girlfriend. It feels good to go to bed at night thinking about a person, then wake up the next day still thinking about them. If that’s the last thing I ever feel, then I reckon I’ll be ok about that.

Love is pretty awesome.

Well, I hope y’all are doing well.

Do stay in touch.

Toodles!