With my cup of coffee next to me, I open my notebook. An empty page welcomes me, my fountain pen resting gently in my hand, waiting to be put to work. I never write the title first because I never know what turn my story will take.
Today I have no idea even how to start. There’s an image of a cat that meditates on my cup of coffee. She looks serene and calm, quite the opposite of how I’m feeling.
I feel the need for something but I can’t put my finger on it. My mind yearns for an unknown thing that I can’t, for the life of me, figure out. You know, like when your body asks for some taste and whatever food you’re eating is not satisfying because you need something else. The same with my mind now. I want to read, but can’t find out what. I opened about seven books and read some pages before putting each of them down. I tried to do some exercises, but my body simply refused to move. I started painting, but after 15 minutes I abandoned my work because it didn’t feel right. Writing felt even worse! Like pangs of pain in my rib cage. Everything feels out of place and I can’t figure out what I need. Playing video games, watching movies, nothing satisfies me.
Everything feels like a waste of time. And my energy levels are so low. I need something else and I don’t understand what. I’m making plans of leaving the city for the weekend, maybe that will bring me some peace of mind.