I honestly don’t know what to write here. Not because there’s nothing quite the opposite. There are too many thoughts, but none of them feel right. Everything feels half-baked, unfinished, like I’m just a rough draft of myself.

There’s no mood. Not good, not bad just… blank. And honestly, I don’t even know which is worse: feeling everything at once, or feeling absolutely nothing while still pretending to function like it’s all okay.

Every action feels like pressing “play” on an empty track. No sound comes out, and yet you sit and wait like something will happen.

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

I’m forсing myself to do things. Simple, mundane, disconnected things. Drink water. Reply to messages. Pretend I’m “fine.” Right now, “functioning” probably just means not erasing myself entirely. And I’m holding on to that.

I made a pea cream soup today. It actually turned out surprisingly good but I’ve still spent the whole day craving pizza, fries, or better yet, a greasy, unapologetic burger. Maybe that’s my body’s way of asking for what it’s really missing.
Like joy.

Sometimes it feels like I’m not living, just rehearsing. For what or for whom I have no idea.

But maybe that’s the point: to keep going even when you feel nothing. Not because there’s hope, but because you’ve tried everything else, and it didn’t help either.