So I’m struggling to summon the energy needed to write properly. I’m listening to Amy Winehouse at the moment, and actually today’s been the best I’ve felt in a while. I went out for a run, and went down into town and actually felt ok.
Last night was bad- had a very low night. Better today though.
I haven’t written anything for weeks. I don’t know why. I just keep feeling as though I’m starting something massive, despite the fact that I know this is the wrong was of looking at it. If I could just work for an hour a day- get something written each day. It’s ridiculously hot, and the last week has been stressful. I’m in the process of moving, which is obviously always stressful. I’ve been going up and down quite a bit. I’m excited, just also intimidated. It’s not how I imagined I’d move, but I know that nothing is ever quite as you imagined it would be.
I think I’m learning to move away from the impulse to think that writing is only pointful or possible if I’m doing it in a strict routine. My mental illness keeps bringing up these shit lines, messing with my head- keeps telling me I’m going to lose my creativity because of the decisions I’m making and the way I’m choosing to live my life- this is BS. I’ve got psychology appointment on Monday, I think this could be good.
Signing off, I don’t know what it is that I want to say exactly, at the moment.