I usually know how to start these things off, and lately I haven’t.
A part of me feels like it’s missing, and I’m not sure what my place is anymore. I find myself staring into nothingness and my mind jolting me back from a distant memory.
I wrote some time ago about how Work is coping mechanism, and it works.
Except it’s not there anymore, not in the same way.
Not because I’ve lost my job due to Covid.
But because I’m one of those lucky few who were allowed to stay at home and take it easy on work.
I guess that part bugs me, I’m lucky — yet I feel broken somehow, like a part of me is missing, or got lost along the way.
I reach out to people on the internet, conversations last a few hours, and people just move on. I feel like I’ve lost touch.
Is this what dehumanisation feels like?
Is it “privilege” that I’m whining about a perfectly comfortable life, when others a suffering through much worse?
Have I lose my right to say, “Hey, I suffer too. Just differently”.
I don’t know what it is that gets us out of this place, for me it was work — work kept me busy, work was…everything?
Now, I’m just hollow — and not much happens.
I don’t feel joy, but I don’t feel sad.
I just feel dislocated.
At the right place, at a different pace.
I guess I’d like to feel something again, and maybe I’ll go for a run.
Run until the soles of feet hurt, and it feels like my heart might explode.
Run until I reach a place that feels comfortable.
Run until it feels like home.