I should be doing stuff but I’m not

What a fabulous title, am I right? What a fan-fucking-tabulous title, “I should be doing stuff but I’m not.” Because it’s true, I have a shit-load (yes, that is an accurate measurement) of stuff to be doing right now, but instead I am on here sharing my sorrows with the world wide web. Here’s the problem, guys: I DON’T WANT TO DO IT. ANY OF IT. I’M DONE. Please, please, please don’t ask me to do anymore because I truly don’t think I can. I work so hard; I run 50-55 miles a week, I am in 16 credit hours of class, and I do the equivalent of class hours in homework every night. I’m just exhausted, I am burnt out on life right now. All I want, all I dream about, is a pause-button. I just want to stop the world for a few measly moments to myself. Why doesn’t everybody just take a pause, while I go take a year or two vacation.

I’ll run off to a secluded beach somewhere warm and sunny. I’ll rise and set with the sun, without the need to set an alarm. I’ll take my time preparing and enjoying my meals and i’ll never be without a date; my breakfasts with the sunrise, my dinners with the sunsets, and my lunches spent with the sea. I’d keep fresh flowers in vases throughout my home and in the gardens outside, so that there was always a pleasant smell to the place. The rest of my time would be spent however I please, without any agenda. I’ll catch up on all the novels I’ve been longing to read. I’ll finally have the time to perfect my piano skills, and maybe finally complete a full piece. I might take a long walk, just me and the sand beneath my toes. I’d eventually take the time to learn to paint and use my new-found skills to capture the beauty of the sunsets and the ocean waves. And when I finally tired of my seclusion, if I ever tired from it at all, I would then return to my life and un-pause the world.

I just don’t see how the things that I am actively engaged in at this moment can be any use to me at all? The life I want is the one described above, and no amount of running, or studying, or working, can directly get me that life. The issue, the root cause that is the root cause of everything troublesome in this world, is money. In order to have that life, I need money. Money for the house, money for the food, money for the flowers, money for the books, money for the piano, money for the comfort of not needing a job. And the only way I can get the money for those things which I love, is by giving up those things that I love and replacing them with running, studying, and working. It’s a cruel joke, is it not?


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