Somewhere I’ve been lost. I don’t find joy in the little things or the big for that matter. I am late, because I have to battle my will to come. I don’t have the desire to come in the first place, but the anxiety of not going was overwhelming. This battle of wills takes time. Therefore I am late. I don’t want to do anything. Nor do I want to get ready. But heaven forbid that I go out looking anything less than perfect-anxiety.

Showering is difficult, eating is the same. I hardly shower or get ready, because it’s hard and a burden. If my mom didn’t make food, I don’t know if I’d eat. Making food is a burden and hunger has become a friend. Hunger is a feeling other than sadness and deep sorrow.

Being with my friends and family is difficult. I can hardly talk to them, smile with them, look them in the eye, or enjoy their company. I feel like a shell of who I once was. I don’t laugh anymore.

I wanted to play a game with my cousins, but couldn’t find the desire to do it. Playing-pointless.  Watching movies-pointless. Writing-pointless. Reading-pointless. Talking-pointless. Walking-pointless. Moving-pointless.

I’m just going through the motions. I know myself, but I’m not feeling myself. I can act myself, but I am not myself. I’m hiding behind this shadow of who I once was. I can smile, but because it’s expected. I can laugh, but I don’t feel it. When talking I’m not in the conversation. I ramble and forget what we were talking about.

I zone out from life and forget things. Little details, such as names I know, escape from me. I’m lost. I don’t know who I am anymore. I am unfeeling. I can’t even cry anymore.

I feel as if I could become one with the bed, unmoving, unthinking, unfeeling. I don’t want to sleep and can’t when I try to. When, finally, I do fall asleep I can’t get up. I am so tired. My body is heavy. My eyes hurt from lack of sleep. They are heavy, my eyelids close on their own accord. I just want to sleep, forget, be forgotten.

Exercising is stressful. Being out of breath makes me feel claustrophobic. Being with people, stressful. I can’t seem to think or talk. I over analyze all that I say. My mental processing is sluggish. I am thoughtless. Everything falls apart, shatters, is dust.

Fear is my constant companion, because all seems to fail. I fail myself, my friends, my family, my responsibilities.

I sleep and sleep and lay motionless on my bed. Why do anything? Doing things is like running through mud up to your hips, a fight for every second of the journey. I’m tired from every effort. My limbs feel heavy from the slightest of efforts.

I’m tired of feeling nothing but sadness. My heart has closed in on itself.
I’m tired of feeling like everything I do is wrong. My life feels wasted.
I’m tired of feeling pointless. My mind sees nothing.
It all seems pointless.
I am here, but I’m tired. Heart, mind, body, soul. I am tired.
Just tired.

Progress and the Update

Alright it has been a while, but I have some good news!!! I have completed my first draft of Book 1. I have had some ideas for the title, but haven’t decided if I like any.So much of the story has changed since I have started writing it. I feel like I have written more than just one draft. I guess that is the process, for me at least, of writing a book.

This will be an Epic Fantasy. Epic fantasy is where you build your own world. Conflict between good and great evil will be seen throughout the story, a conflict that effects the worlds. A lot will go into defeating the evil and at the end of the story (in my case the trilogy) there will be a significant change seen in the world of the book.
A basic example of Epic Fantasy is: Lord of the Rings

Goal: To be a published author in 2017
Books 1,2,3-Outlines: 100%
Character Sketching: 100%
Book 1-Draft: 100%
Book 1-Draft*2*: 10%