Totally lost. If I'm honest I don’t even know why I am typing these words down here now. Lacking any ambition what so ever.
I mean I really try to gain control and make the most of the day, stay upbeat, pursuade myself to believe "I am competent, capable and worthy" listening to uplifting tunes like "Walking on sunshine" and "Dont stop me now" on endless repeat..but
God’s current color palette, ranging from 90 to 99% black, does not particularly encourage me in my will to live.
C’mon girl! Pick yourself up. It’s still early...reasonably...at least not „too late“. Not even lunch time yet...for some people. Just after... 4pm...Get up! Meditate! Take a shower. Pick an outfit other than the pajama, dressing gown or the bulged out jogging pants you wore for the past 7 days.
Mhm...I could do I suppose even if I do not feel the urge to do so...just to sort gummy bears by its color.
C'mon! Move your ass and your mind will follow. Ok, ok...just gathering my...bits and pieces
After a pointless week of no achievement at all, I did set the alarm clock to 8am this morning in the ambitious attempt of a fresh start. The plan was to finally get my life in order.
Apply something like „Time Management“ to the bare frame of the existence.
Apparently a range of tools and techniques to manage TIME would help one to accomplishing specific goals...IN THEORY.
Of course it would help, to have a defined GOAL in the first place. And not just spend the days in limbo, sensing that everything is utterly pointless all together.
The compliance of a due date is another important aspect within the concept... in theory.
I got no due date, no deadline, possibly not even a right to exist.
I've got nothing to hold on to apart from the daily organization of my pathetic existence in a vacuum. (TAGESGESTALTUNG)
So great! Let's get to work! Structure your little pitiful life. Start planning...Jot down your to do’s and then just stick to (them)..
Excuse me! What do you work out, if you got no limbses or lack an entire body all together?
The hours/days/weeks consist of nothingness. Empty frames. Dials without hands, hourglasses without sand, spirits without levels. Der letzte Monat des Jahres liegt vor mir wie ein leerer Sarg, der grundlos auf Beisetzung wartet, ohne das darauf oder daraus irgendetwas folgen würde. Im Gegenteil. Auf einen verpufften Leeraum, folgt nur der Nächste. Existenzvakuum in Endlosschleife. (Wdh, Wdh, Wdh..)
