Drifting Away

I don't post enough here, I know.

I always intend to, but I don't have much net access these days.

I'll spend my day and think of things I can write and things I want to do, and then when I get round to it, I can't be arsed. Or I just don't think it's worth posting anymore.
I make promises to myself to do stuff, but I never do.
I don't even know if anyone's actually reading this right now.
Fuck it, I'm writing this for myself more than anyone else. Therapy on the cheap.
Fuck knows if it's ever helped, but hey ho...

I just don't really do anything noteworthy anymore; or at least anything that I'm still psyched about at the time of being online.
Occasionally I'll do something, and then not be online till a week later, by which point it just feels pointless writing about it (take my trip to San Diego for instance - a fucking huge momentous occasion in my life).

I don't know.

Everything's just a spiral now.

A year or so ago, I felt part of an online community.
I was one of many 'friends' who always had something to say, and who regularly blogged.
Now none of us do. I don't know why.
Times change, things change, people change.
I'm definitely more cynical than I was a year ago.
And possibly more lazy.
Though maybe exhausted and drained is more apt.
And numb. Always emotionally numb.

My passions are watered down, my motivation, my enthusiasm, my lust for life itself.

I'm not living anymore, I'm just existing.

And it's fucking me off big time, but I'm still not doing anything about it.

Maybe this is a start....