Excessive

It's been a long stretch of days that's felt as if there was no end. It wasn't the longest streak of days working or anything, and I know that while I'm in school, it's going to feel much more difficult, but I worked eight days in a row or something, and finally have my days off coming, so it's like I've reached the light at the end of the tunnel. Sadly, it's less of a tunnel, and more of a short underpass, but... I suppose that's most things in life.

I have so many things in my head I'd like to write out but I never seem to be able to make the time to sit down and type it out. I have conversations with myself in my head, I have journal entries in my head, that I go over, and I say them, in full sentences. I'm a good writer, I just don't write anymore.

Objects, sentimental value, the desire to include others, to share. The frustrations with depression, lack of energy, a slump.

I think that we, as in people, spend the majority of their lives chasing after the things they once had. Feelings, people, hobbies, habits... we remember things more fondly (sometimes) and try everything to get back to 'the good times'. I always think about writing and how I can never do it, or never choose to do it, and I think about how great it would be if I could just remember to do it, or make time to do it. Then I think... maybe I just don't need it anymore, maybe I've outgrown it, or don't require it to feel okay, or whatever the reason may be, maybe life wouldn't be so much greater if I wrote more, or replayed old games to recapture that feeling of magic, maybe the magic isn't there anymore... maybe it is though! I don't know what I'm trying to say. I thought a bit today about the feelings I got playing games in the past, and how I don't feel it as often anymore, or rarely, or ever, and I wish I could feel that again, and how could I go about doing that... but maybe that's just gone.