At least I still like jalapeños. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

I wanted to start a new routine this month, but that never happened. I mean more than lifting. Change the small daily habits that pervade. Instead I got sick, and have taken yet another break from lifting. Just removing the mental stress/judgement of “gosh, why aren’t I lifting?”

Instead, I work, I go to bed, I sleep waaaay in every day, and go back to work. I can’t seem to bother to do anything to enjoy my spare time. I just exist. I work and sleep and that’s it. I figure the cutoff is about a month. Before I suck it up and try to suffer some more for the reactive happiness/contentment/feeling like I’m at least trying.

Trying has always been hard.

I’m all alone, just like last year. Or so it feels.

You know what I miss? Just babbling my interior monologue. The nonimportant thoughts. Oh, I had some tacos. Oh, I saw a cute girl. Oh, I farted. Oh, I should wash my hair. Oh, I should take out the trash.

I don’t like that I need to have something to say to be able to speak.

Depression blows.