Here I am, sitting alone at a cafe. I don't know what happened. It's 15.37, I just needed a reason to get out of the house. I'm suffocating there.

Though, this isn't that bad. I'm enjoying it. Somewhat.

Being All Alone

It's not all bad, being all alone. I get to be free. But that freedom is what gives me a lot of anxiety. Today was a rest day, but rest is a sin for my brain.

I kept telling myself that I'm not doing anything. Even though I am, objectively, doing something. At least. There are projects under my belt which are somewhat finished or is finishing up.

These are things that I can objectively say something I've achieved. Something that I can consider worth of rest.

But being alone while resting is hell. I wish it weren't like this. I wish my brain chemicals are arranged in a way that makes it easy for me to accept that I may need some form of rest as well.

Some Form of Rest

There's this old expression: "I can rest in heaven". Maybe I read that somewhere and thought to myself: Hey, what a cool idea.

Let me just apply that to myself. So that every passivity turns into flagellation of me not doing anything. My brain is fucked and I have myself to blame.

You know what? Writing this helps.

I just needed an outlet to scream to. This blog is a godsend.

I hope it rains this evening. It's a good day to rain, isn't it?