Sølibat

  Time seems to pass so fast, lately. I wake up, watch a couple YouTube videos and suddenly it's three o'clock in the afternoon and getting dark already because it's almost Christmas. By half four, it's nap time, by half six it's time to wake up again, play Skyrim for a while, shower, spend another couple hours on the internet and then go to sleep again.

  'Meta! What's your fucking point?' I hear in my head, imagining the response if I said this to an actual person. Is it sad that this is often my alternative to speaking to real... humans? As Davey Wreden said in one of my favourite games of all time, (covered here in my post on The Beginner's Guide - yes, I'm not above a shameless plug), "you can't talk yourself out of loneliness, it doesn't work that way." Is that what I'm trying to do here? Perhaps. It's not exactly a far out idea.

  Surely that's the root of how a writer actually takes up the pen or keyboard and begins to write in the first place. It's like having a thousand conversations inside your head at the same time, in a way, there's never really enough quiet for somebody to be alone. I suppose I can be thankful for that, the lack of silence that I would inevitably struggle further with.

  Anyway, back to my original point. I feel as if waking up to carry out a set of menial tasks that don't add up to anything, on repeat for a week when I'm not working, I don't know. It's tiring, a little... ugh. I don't know. I just wish there was more for me, right now. Is that selfish? Probably, I'm not exactly new to that particular concept.

  "If there was an answer, a meaning, would it make you any happier?" Another quote from TBG. I think about this one a lot.

  This blog has been fairly existential crisis-y for the last month or so, and I apologise for that but, well, this is just how I feel. Maybe the new year will bring something a little better my way.

Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
19/12/2017