I used to have a very strong need to express myself. This journal, as you may remember, began as a home to my often-failed attempts at humorous rants, then turned into a home for my often depressing series of autobiographical comics, and now I post funny pictures. Every so often I'd write a movie or book review, and more often still I'd write something like this commenting on the state of this journal itself.
Somewhere, though, I've lost the desire to express myself. I feel like the need is very much there, but in the majority of occasions where an idea strikes me, I strike it down with a greater force. What's the point? Who cares? I'm can say with utmost certainly that I am a much less creative person than I was a few years ago, as I haven't had the desire to pick up a pen or pencil and draw anything in almost two years. I don't feel the need to write about the movies I like or hate, and would much rather post one-sentence vague status updates on Facebook about how I'm doing than explore my actual feelings and conditions on Livejournal.
I suppose I could blame my lethargy to the schedule and stress of work, but I've also argued that having a job and keeping myself busy has kept me, in some ways, from being depressed. The only days where I spend the majority of my time in bed with the windows drawn are weekends, where I often have either nothing to do or, if an opportunity arises, no desire to do it. And yet, come Monday, I dread having actually business to attend to. The patten as of late has been to spend five days of the week anxious and occupied and two days bored and depressed.
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