The dial that controls my creative output has not been cranked to the max lately and Iāve been getting upset at myself for it. Its felt like Iāve been wasting my free time by doing things that I like instead of things that are productive, and in turn enjoying those things less because Iām thinking about how I should be bettering myself or my world in some way.
I know there will be a time when the juices flow again because they have once before, and while I am in this dry spell Iām trying not to crucify myself too rigorously for not doing much writing and instead trying to make it to the end of the day without telling myself that I need to kill myself too many times to be deemed socially or even asocially acceptable.
Maybe a less prideful individual would just call it being depressed, but I must convolute around taking the easy way out and chalking it up to some misfiring neurons to instead convince myself that I am a cog in some unknowable cosmic engine and I simply must wait for some 7th dimensional machine elf to power me back on before Feeling Like Myself Again