ennui

Almost everything seems empty to me, and not worthwhile.


I don’t have the motivation to do anything I used to enjoy. I want to do them – because before they used to bring me peace and pride and purpose – but I can’t get myself there.


I wonder often if I’ll ever return to a productive state, fully engaged in people and the world around me. Now I’m only skimming the surface, complacently assuming the meaning or depth of things I have no intention of really investigating.


As much as I want to have powerful experiences, most of the things I do are bereft. Or I am jaded. Or something. I WANT to be moved. I WANT to be excited, passionate again. But nothing has power for me. Sexual experiences are meaningless and unmoving. My work is boring despite it being “exciting.” Books do not seem worth reading. Basically the only thing that moves me one way or the other are the pangs of rejection.