Here And There But Also There And Here

Time to write something super happy.

Maybe there’s mold in my home making me feel like the world hates me.

Or maybe it’s my lack of wanting to be alone. But I don’t even know if it’s that.

It’s just the weird feeling as if I somehow don’t belong because I haven’t been contributing enough to the world. Like my worth is based off of how much I have been creating.

And to keep it the most abuck with you all.

I haven’t been using my brain nearly as enough as I should.

I’ve been in this perpetual state of just filling my days with things todo to make me feel more whole.

But I don’t want to clean all the time to make me feel more human.

It’s this damn phone.

Tonight I have written more than I have in months. For some reason I just really needed to let some things out.

But I think it’s just the thought creeping behind me that I am in fact going to die someday.

I really am. There is no way around that.

Even if there was, I don’t think I could bear the fact of being alive forever. This being temporary is what makes it that much more meaningful.

The thing that gets me is I’ve been wasting the days doomscrolling. Not writing or drawling.

I have been cooking a lot lately. Which I do consider a sort of art form. So there is that. But I want more for myself. I desire more. I just don’t know what more. And what for more. And what does it even mean wanting more.

I have enough. But I think I mean more as in trying to maneuver what drives me towards my purpose. I’m still trying to figure that out.

I hope people find comfort in my existence. I hope I am one of the good ones.

But don’t we all.