[I know… it’s only been a week and I’ve already changed my header.
Maybe I’ll make a new one for each week. That’ll be fun.
Probably only for me, but whatever.]
Do you think you’re currently operating at 100% capacity?
Fuck no! I’m barely operating at all. This question actually made me laugh. Like, aloud.
I have zero motivation, zero drive, zero ambition… zero goals. Having no purpose (see March 4) really puts a damper on those things. I can think of things I could be doing… stuff like finally reorganizing and purging some stuff from my kitchen cabinets. Do I really need four 10-inch frying pans? I think not. Eight cookie sheets? I think not. You get the idea. And then there’s the bookcase. Holy shit, I don’t even know how to weed anything out of that thing. But it’s overly packed.
[These are not my actual bookshelves. I wish!]
Nothing exciting or life-changing, but… things I could do. Yet I cannot find the will to do them. Most days, it’s a struggle to even get out of bed. I mean, what’s the point? I’ve got nowhere to be… nothing to do… no one really needs me. I am inconsequential.
p.s. — I think I was operating at 100% capacity in my early-to-mid 20s. I had a decent job (although it wasn’t really going anywhere so maybe I wasn’t quite at 100% on this front), I had good friends, I dated, I had a social life, I had a regular coffee shop where the guy knew me and surprised me with random coffee drinks (yes, this is important), the old lady at the Chinese takeout place a block away knew me by name. It was probably the only time in my adult life that I felt happy. Well… as happy as I’m capable of feeling, anyway.
I can pinpoint two specific things that destroyed all of it. Fuck, how I wish I could go back and do whatever it took to stop those two things from happening. My whole life would be different—and so much better—right now. [I suppose I can’t know for sure that it would be better, but the odds totally support that.]
p.p.s. — That was a long p.s.