I woke up the morning after I posted my last blog post and then took a look at the posts from this month and the last and thought, man, I complain too much. Not that its bad to complain, but it gets to a point. All this complaining and wallowing feeds into itself and all I'm left is myself. If I'm going to just have myself I'd rather have the faux optimism along with it than nothing at all.

In the early stages of my blog page I used to try to write as often as I could and I wouldn't care because nobody would really read them, but now that I know that there are people that know it even exists let alone reading it, I find myself trying not to post as often as to not constantly bombard others with inane ramblings. I find myself trying to write something more worthwhile and all that is worthwhile that I can think of is wallowing in my own self pity. Recently I've deleted more paragraphs than I've written and I've written a lot. I've panopticoned myself without even realising it.

I think the main issue is I've let myself go, I've become comfortable with sadness rather than striving to be happy. I wasn't happy then, but I tried. When did I give up?

As annoying as the tone of my last post was, I think it was cathartic in a way, to write it and then hours after, look back and cringe enough into wanting actionable change in how I go about life.

Now, the action is the hard part. Its exceedingly difficult to change myself from a life of learned irony. I don't think I'm cynical or curmudgeonly, but earnestness is a difficult thing to pry out from me, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been sincere with another person in my life. Many years ago I obscured the firmament of my soul so I could fit in, the things I liked I either kept to myself or I stopped liking. Now I'm paying the consequences, I want to love the things I love and be proud of loving them, I want to be a true self stripped of any pretence and bare my heart to a world that hates me and wants to exploit me, even so I love this world nonetheless.

All of this is to say, I think I will breathe in the summer air and feel its breeze run across my skin. The hole is still dug and the walls are still closing in, but there's a smile on my face. Because I have to, otherwise I won't.

Hope alone won't get me out of this hole, but hopefully, it'll inspire me to climb.

Productive day today, went to the library, got a library membership, tried to borrow a book but it was already on loan so reserved it instead, went to the bank to put money into my account to pull myself out of overdraft, and all before 11 am :)

I met up with a friend, who was away for a year abroad, with another friend and we just caught up on our lives and university, and as always the conversation veered towards the natural topic any conversation between people my age often does. The future, and the job search. Something everybody loves to talk about yet everybody hates to think about.

Life feels so aimless right now. For the first time in my life, I have no obligations to anything other than to myself and now I don't know what to do with it. I try not to think about it, but, really what do I do?

Everybody I talk to, they say they don't have a plan but in reality they at least have a semblance of a plan or even a backup, me?

The summer's not over yet so I don't want to make any sweeping statements, but this summer isn't what I envisioned it to be.

I thought after I put university behind me I could just relax, give myself time to breathe. Instead I feel like I'm digging myself into a hole, and that hole is slowly closing, dirt keeps piling and I'm gasping for air, clawing at the narrowing walls, something is wrong, how can I fix this, what remedy is their to ail a broken mind?

I just want to relax, I want to breathe in the summer air and feel its breeze run across my skin, I am tired of being beholden by the cycle of misery. I want to climb out from this hole.

I really hate how much I procrastinate even the simplest of tasks. I wish there was an explanation for why I'm seemingly incapable of executing the things in front of me when I know that its not difficult and in my best interest to do. There probably is but I'm procrastinating finding out.

I've really got to update my journal page, change the layout and turn it into a general writing page. I've got some things that I want to write about that are more than blog posts, but I just keep procrastinating.

Everybody is broke. If they're not broke they're working, and if they're not broke or working then I don't know them. I'm in the midst of trying to schedule a hangout with a friend who's been away for a year and my group of friends and I've been running around insta DMs attempting to figure out when people are free or off work and I'm having to wait for up to 10 hours to a whole day to get a single response, though I cannot complain too much or perhaps even at all, for I too am a horrible texter. But if they were a better texter, I would be more enthused to be a better texter, but instead we're all bad texters and now we're stuck. Stuck in this loop. Be the change you wanna see? Maybe, but I'll be the change in a little bit, I'm a bit busy right now, I'll get back to it for sure though.

***

I repeat myself much too often, I wrote a whole paragraphs on previously treaded water that eventually circled around to my state of unemployment and I promptly deleted when I realised how many times I've talked about it. I've seemingly replaced complaining about university to complaining about being jobless. When I get a job I am sure I will complain about my job too. This is my year of rest and relaxation I said, the year I take a step back from life, and allow myself to breathe, yet I am incapable of breathing, I like to drown. I like dreaming dreams that I'm not allowed to dream, living lives that I won't live, for all the progress that I think I've made as a person it won't change that I am still me. For all that is good, for all that is bad.

I am rushing. To what?

Slow down.