the capacity

For almost a year now, indefinitely, I have not been expressing myself in such a way that is healthy, productive, nor respectful to my own potential. I am having a hard time determining whether the cause is pure laziness, ennui, lack of will? inspiration? I don't know..

I must say, I have grown incredibly jaded and spend most of my time vegetating if I am not swamped with work responsibilities. I have also lost the will to progress in terms of skateboarding, an activity I have held close to my heart since I stopped doing yoga. I also do not meditate despite my acknowledgement of the fact that it might do my sanity good.

Lately, I am becoming more out of touch with reality and becoming so obsessive on relationships. What other people think of me occupies my brain a lot and not at the same time. See, my brain is highly selective and so is my heart.

Sometimes, I will find my self obsessing on a thought, a circumstance, a situation, a person, and feel aggressive and negative emotions or energies building up inside me - causing a storm. And then I will begin to become extremely hateful, paranoid, and so on. But in a snap, I will manage to crawl out of it like having been awoken from a paralyzing nightmare. It's like I did not even know how long I have been stuck in the confines of my own mind, plotting some poor acquaintance's death.

I do not know myself anymore, I do not know what I want. Laziness and lack of inspiration, or will to overcome misery, has paralyzed me for real. I spend my days like a robot and satisfy my dull senses with superficial treats and temporary bliss.

I have even grown dispassionate towards my lover and it worries me.I do not know myself anymore. And I have seemingly lost the capacity to express myself through ways that once nurtured the very essence of me... through art, literature, philosophical discourse, alternative sports, meditation, and so on.

I feel life passing me by actually and I can't seem to know what to do about it. Like, where do I even begin?

So yeah, this is it. My weak by sincere attempt at piecing back the pieces of me that I have lost. I will slowly begin to remind myself how it is to express myself before I drive myself mad as I have developed some sort of condition wherein I find it hard to come out of my own mind.. It's like I have locked myself inside a deep, dark, and miserable corner inside some tiny, airless, and murky vessel in my brain or something.

And so, it begins..