Something. Anything.

I need to write something. Anything. This. These words, here, now. Just something to break the inertia that I feel stuck in.

I don’t know how some people are so ambitious. They get up and go every day. I’ve never been able to do that. I know that a “pro” in any area doesn’t wait to feel motivated. They know the difference between motivation and commitment, and they are committed. But I can’t seem to commit to this, to being consistent, to this thing that matters to me so much that when I’m not doing it I feel depressed.

I’m here now, writing, right here, right now. It’s late and in an ideal world I’d already be fast asleep. Instead, it’s twenty to midnight and I’ve had another strange day. I feel like a snail at the moment. Perhaps it’s lockdown, or midlife, or a resurgence of apathy. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on.

I just know that when the flow of activity slows to a halt, I don’t feel good.

This has helped.

(Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters via Unsplash. Thank you, Glenn. Cool name.)