I’m in a rut. This has been obvious to me for a while, but it really came into clear focus on Friday afternoon, when I left work for my half-day and didn’t immediately go home. Instead, I went to the grocery store and realized how long it’d been since I actually kept food in my apartment. Then I walked home down a street I don’t usually take and realized how foreign it seemed. None of this should be novel at all, and yet…
I function at the bare minimum most of the time, if I’m being honest. I get up, go to work, come home, fuck around online, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat. I see the same things, eat the same foods, visit the same websites, fall into all the old negative patterns and habits. I talk a big game to myself about turning my life around, but the lowest common denominator is just so comfy and warm.
I realize I’m idealizing the past, but it seems like things were more interesting when everything was always right on the verge of falling apart.
Did I learn from any of this introspection and do something more exciting with the rest of my weekend? Not unless you count eating a whole roll’s worth of Pillsbury biscuits (minus the one that fell on the floor, because a girl’s got to have some standards) and sleeping for eighteen hours straight.