The Fatigue of Doing Nothing

Saturday, 9th of July 2022

Today is the ninth day of July, a special day, yet also a very normal day. A day like many others, one in ten thousand, one in three hundred and sixty five. Blue skies, a light wind and a fresh new set of hours. Spirits are high yet I cannot help the fatigue that is overtaking me. Perhaps that of the stress I’ve been unwitingly shouldering for a few months? Or simply that I have not slept the sleep of the just this night? Who knows?

I have not done much. In the past nine days, in the past few months, in the pas few years. Doing things has often been my desire but has never quite been my motivation. I want to do a lot of things, I even like to believe I have pretty good ideas, but actually getting down to doing said things? Très peu pour moi. Gain money? Yes. Work for it? Meh…

And yet, after having done nothing professionally productive in the past few months – I still did thing, though! I’ve worked on:

  • stories I’ve had in mind for a while and am writing slower than a snail takes to beat a slug at road racing;
  • poetry, which I’ve written intensively a few years ago on a personal dare and since decided I wanted to follow my own rhythm;
  • getting better at League of Legends, my supp game is off the charts;
  • playing tabletop rpgs with friends (both as a player, and as a beginner GM);
  • planning out said games as a GM, I’v so many ideas I’m having so much fun thinking up/writing out;
  • watching films, because cinema is awesome and I love discovering new things to say and feel about through this medium;
  • learning evermore, philosophical concepts, sociological ideas, science facts, practical daily talents, etc.

and in parallel of all that I also looked for and applied to a good number of jobs so as to make sure I didn’t forget that despite my reluctance to settle myself into a career just yet, I do want and need to make some money somehow… – And so, yet, I feell like I’m stagnating, that my value is not enough, that I’ll never amount to much (not that I want to, although becoming rich and famous will always have its apeal!), and that I’ll never find a way to be happy/content while also not stressed out by all that I’m lacking.

Because that’s the hardest thing when you* do nothing: you realize that you like that, that this ‘slow life as an apotheticary at the border of the continent after having reincarnated from the Hero’s party, in a small house near a lake with your spouse’ type of isekai is actually very appealing, and that having the sort of job you want / are supposed to have / that your loved ones hope you would have is not fullfiling even as a prospect.

* and by you, I mean me

You realize not that you’re lazy but that you’ve sort of veered into the wrong direction earlier in your life and that you’ve lost precious years doing things you didn’t really want to do. That is my most existential dread: the loss of what could have been. It wrecks always as a story trop, it’s why tragedies get me to tear up. I’ve lost years. Not in a bad way, really, it’s not like I regret what I have now. It’s just this longing for what I could have done with the knowledge of what I want now, what I like now, and how I could have applied it to my life years ago to pursue things that I would have been happier doing.

I’m of those that would rewind the world.

And so I find myself perpetually in this stats of inbetween, which I believe many others may have felt in these past years, a limbo which you might feel stuck in too… Wanting to travel, to see and discover the world but not being able to because of the pandemic is taking its toll, I feel. The question of is it acceptable for me to feel that way whan so many others are feeling worse? When I have it so easy? #firstworldproblems

This subcutanean stress, this amalgamation of forces pushing and pulling my being in all directions, waiting for the fault to show weakness, is exhausting in its insidiousness. One never knows until it is too late and the earthquake takes them down to trembling knees, until the water that has receded comes pouring out of reddened wells, until the stars are there when you look down and the ground is falling. Tectonic forces slowly tearing me apart and remaking me; I need to learn to swim when running on this shallow, uneven ground is not sufficient.

I am become breath.

All of this to say very little in the end: I may have found a job, I may have not, I may like it, I may not like it enough, I may still want to travel very soon, I may wait even more, I may be tired of waiting and doing nothing, I may not be ready to try anything new, I may wish to take a chance, I way end up doing so, I may want many things yet June has passed and here is July one third gone already…

I have thoughts and I hope to share them soon.

Anyways, happy to be d+4 after the apocalypse and to still have chips and cheese to enjoy (but, just to be sure); and remember:

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