(no subject)

Right now it seems like life is made up of things that I don't want to do, conversations I don't want to have and places I don't want to be. Grudging acceptance is what this is all about. Compliance.

Which isn't to say I'm brimming with pleasing alternatives - that's the thing - anhedonia. If I had a great master plan of what could-be-better I'd certainly follow that, but I don't. I have nothing in particular that I want to do, so I do what I must and find that I don't enjoy it. Stupid right?

I'm not sure there's a proper cure for this, or that there's a way to making what I do more appealing on its own. I don't know why I'm so disillusioned, and I don't think that the common cures are things that would offer any real balm. That's the thing, it's not a matter of having more money, or more fun things to do, or the right person to do them with. It's just a feeling of craving and loving isolation and idleness.

Couldn't say why. I cleaned my house and did a bunch of laundry - that kind of improved things. I've come to find that having a proper base, having your home-base ordered is a useful tactic, but I think it's not winning the race to do this, it's rather, a little nudge toward humanness that makes it seem less terrible to be isolated and idle.

The thing is, you want to talk about it. You know, it's the writing things down that makes it better, but I'm all burdened by secrets - which is certainly the route to displeasure for me, and more than that, hemmed in by thwarted hopes- which in turn is another antagonism. So I'm shut down and dismayed & I guess that colors everything else- a tasteless salt that gives no savor.

It's not ever fair, but that's not a thing to complain about, it's a thing to notice and move past, but it just doesn't look like there's anything correct to move toward - so where do you go if you don't know where to go? Maybe just the bar.