Five missing reasons

I legitimately do have the rest of the series of reasons why life can be pretty cool at times sketched out, planned out, have pictures for them and everything.

I don't have a great reason for why i haven't written anything substantial in almost a week. I honestly haven't been able to get down anything more than a couple of paragraphs at a time without looking it over and deleting it with prejudice. Like, i know what reviewing my work critically feels like, and i know what scrapping a bad idea feels like, and this isn't either. "Revulsion" is kind of a melodramatic word, but it's probably closer to that than anything else. I feel sick when i think about actually putting stuff out there, sick when i think about trying to tie a story together well, sick of the idea of actually having to perform. And at the same time, i know that I *want* to do something, so i'm endlessly flip-flopping between feeling desperate enough to grasp at straws and feeling close to vomiting when i'm actually holding on to any of the straws.

I'm not sure if this is a house-sitting thing or a i-need-to-get-back-on-antidepressants thing. maybe both.

I have scraps of stuff i'd written. Mostly stuff from before i started house-sitting; some of it was stuff that i stopped myself from killing. I simultaneously want to talk about them - am desperate to talk about them - and revolted at the idea of actually having to talk about any of them.

About the only thing i feel that i can confidently do these days is put on a face for everyone else and ensure that they have a fun time when we're talking. Which is good, because even though talking feels somewhat detached from actual conversation, i feel desperate whenever i'm not talking with anyone.

There are still five reasons. I'll post them eventually. I promise. Thank you for being patient.