For the last few days I’ve been typing out posts and deleting them. I question the value of what I share these days and wonder how much of it really matters, or am I just adding to the clutter? I scroll through my dashboards and feel guilty for not having the presence of mind nor the attention span to read through anything that is longer than just a few lines. So I wonder how many others feel the same way when they see my ramblings appear on their dash.
Most of life is just drivel anyway. All the distractions that I keep trying to unravel mostly ends up being inconsequential but because I applied so much effort in the process, I feel compelled, if not obliged to give it significance. I’ve been unusually productive, yet somewhat sullen at work recently, but my sarcasm is usually enough to distract anyone from noticing the mind-space I’m in. People have grown to expect nothing less from me, except when they’re in need of advice, at which point I’m expected to assume the role of Yoda.
My rambles are growing increasingly incoherent. My mind is foggy and words…well, words seem to be just words these days. They no longer give life to thoughts, or conjure images of amazement or beauty. They’re just words that share a thought but fail to connect. Connect.
The landscape of my mind is somewhat desolate right now. Affirmation lacks any comfort when I feel undeserving of it. The energy required to share my thoughts this morning is more than I can muster right now. This effort is draining me instead of providing release. It only re-emphasises the space where passion once resided.
Perhaps tomorrow will hold more promise.