Writing this in the middle of the night, my old habit of trying to write out my ideas was denied by my procrastination. I have a few things working on pre and post day job shift. Moving from one thing to another, and at times I tend to get myself overwhelmed by the many things I want to do.
So many projects, so many goals. Excuses pile upon excuses, and I end up starting my days drained and devoid of motivation. Not even doing much progress in any of the projects, I get sidetracked to so many other things: games, social media, even work is eating me inside.
Working with the notion of trying to make the most of my time (ever since my commute got shorter after moving to boni), I tried to be productive in those side projects. But as most freedoms go: the more you gain, the more responsibilities it entails. Minor neglects became inconveniences, inconveniences turned to excuses, excuses turned to roadblocks. And roadblocks, well, gets me stuck. And here I am, trying to climb over it.
My first attempt, after a long time, my bottled up frustrations coming out. And after all that, the lines felt empty. Flat. Lifeless. The glimmered drive I had when drawing is now aimless. I can throw in so many excuses, but that will only save my ego
Such a strong word; A hope for a change. A condition to turn things for the better. At the moment, I can’t define it myself. But writing makes me feel better, and hopefully, I might find what I’ve lost.