Finally some real work, for once. I’ve committed to a complete overhaul of the outpost computer UI. The overall appearance is a lot more unified and accessible now, and, at least in my opinion, aesthetically interesting. I’ve merged all of the system apps into a single object that loads directly from the launch screen, and I’ve dramatically decluttered the backend so it’s extremely stable now, and easy to troubleshoot in case QA picks up anything. Right now, only Log is fully implemented functionality-wise – the other two are still basically just visual mockups, as it stands – but it’s a very solid foundation and honestly, I’m just glad I was able to finally get something done.
My lack of progress – both in getting work done, and getting over myself when it comes to my feelings – has progressed from frustrating to maddening. Despite my efforts otherwise, I’ve gotten basically nothing done since Thursday. Now the weekend is over and I’m once again left with nothing to show for it. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to just get the work done on time, especially when I know what exactly needs to be get done, but today in particular felt impossible to overcome. Every hour I made some excuse for myself to start at the end of that hour, yet I barely got more than ten minutes of real work done at the end of all those hours. What a waste of a life. I hate working on this fucking game. At this rate, it feels like it’ll never end.
Thanksgiving was pretty nice. For a moment, I felt a bit better. It didn’t last very long, but while it did, it was pretty nice.
I don’t remember not writing an entry yesterday, but I guess I don’t remember much of anything these days. I worked for about twenty minutes this afternoon – just UI stuff – before succumbing to a dark restlessness that continued to disturb me for the rest of the day. I went for a walk. The night air felt clean and thin, and there were few sounds but the spilling of the wind through the streets and branches of trees.
Published the monthly update this afternoon. Spent the rest of the day in a disconsolate fugue. I thought cleaning my desk might help, but instead it just left me feeling terribly deflated and unfulfilled.
I woke this morning from a dream that left me deeply sad. It was difficult to get out of bed but eventually I somehow did. I was able to get a little bit of work done, mostly just on the Kickstarter update. But after only an hour, I began to feel an immense tearing sensation deep in my chest.
I’ve begun feeling vaguely feverish these past few days whenever I think about certain things too much. My body starts to overheat, and I find myself quickly becoming overwhelmed by a dizzying confusion that rather rapidly and uncontrollably develops into full-blown nausea after several minutes.
Shortly afterwards, I started feeling suicidal again. It persisted for hours.
Once again fallen behind tasks. Still haven’t written either the spec doc for the soundscapes, or this month’s update. It’s not that I’ve not been trying, I’ve just been too distracted lately. Everybody’s always telling me that I’m too hard on myself, but if I had the capacity to be kinder to myself, or even just being able to recognise what that might actually entail, I probably wouldn’t find myself in these situations to begin with, I think. The realisation that so little time has actually elapsed in practice just exacerbates it. I don’t mean to be dramatic when I confess that each night has been getting harder and harder to get through. At least the desire to kill oneself is still an active desire, however destructive it may be. Now, it’s as if I have no desires left at all. I can’t find it within me to want to do anything; and everything that I do just feels like a waste of time. I just feel like a waste of time.
In any case, I should probably commit to finishing the audio write-up and the monthly update tomorrow.
Thoroughly drained. Still no progress. I completely forgot to write the soundscape design sheet for the composer last week. I opened up a document, wrote the title, and then felt so overwhelmed with physical fatigue that I found myself hardly able to look at the screen much longer, let alone conjure any useful thoughts. I’ll have to get it done tomorrow before my meeting.
This week I’m supposed to deliver a build with additional content in it. Seeing that both tomorrow and Tuesday will be more or less completely occupied, that leaves me approximately eight hours or so on Wednesday – and that’s if I’m lucky enough to be debilitated by psychosomatic ailment – to come up with and implement any such content in full. I don’t know why I place such burdens upon myself. I feel useless in the face of it all.
Nothing to update, other than to confirm that I’ve continued to not get any work done. I met with Tawanda across the river instead. We ate pizza, and then sat and watched the lights of the city for a while. The night was bright and streaked with thin, pale clouds that seemed to tumble endlessly across the entire sky. I’ve become sick with longing. I am certain now that, against any efforts to humiliate myself into believing otherwise, what I felt was starkly, unabashedly real. In the wake of that realisation, my former loneliness, in/to which I had so surely resigned myself prior, has become unbearable. The past has suddenly become inhospitable, yet there is no refuge in the present, either. I have little other apparent choice but to wait and suffer the death of this experience in real-time, at the level of my spirit and body alike, all the while mourning its passing, actively unable to effect any other course. The death of something that could’ve been. Maybe. An inchoate, pluperfect future. You know, I still haven’t changed the sheets. I’m afraid to do so. Of what it could mean, of what it might suggest. Instead I pass my evenings lying there on the floor, hours on end, door locked, until it goes completely dark, breathing in and out the ever-diminishing scents of that afternoon until I become nauseous from the heaving in my chest. The nascence of tears that never seem to arrive when they should. I fear the moment has passed for us, irreparably. On what grounds? I don’t know. What is faith? Holy fool. Fucking idiot.
More marginal fixes. Someone told me once that as long as you do a single thing every day, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it is, you’re making progress. I guess they’re right in a logistical sense. But in the moment, it just ends up feeling even more frustrating than doing nothing.
I’m discovering, day by day, that the oblivion of my previous despair was, in retrospect, a far more comfortable burden to hold than that of my present grief. I will be the first to admit how annoyingly melodramatic that likely comes off; but right now, I can no longer stomach the desire to care otherwise. I can’t believe so little time has actually passed. At this rate, it’s hard to believe that I’ll be able to make it through this winter intact.
Optimised the generic forest rooms, and changed the primary typeface to Arial. I feel physically exhausted, and I can’t concentrate on anything. I worked for about an hour, maybe two at maximum, in the afternoon before I succumbed completely to a total fatigue of both my body and spirit. I can’t even properly recall what I actually accomplished, if anything at all. I feel like I’ve made such marginal improvements to the game’s performance that they could just as very well be negligible altogether. I didn’t see the doctor today. I wish I could talk to someone, but the thought of being near another person right now, with the exception of the doctor, deeply unsettles me. I don’t even know what I would or could say. All of this is so pathetic. It makes me sick.
Didn’t work at all this weekend. I probably should have, but… I don’t know. I don’t really have any excuses. I’m tired of coming up with them for myself. I just feel empty. That’s all.
Spent a bit this morning optimising some stuff, or at least pretending to do so. I set up the YYC compiler and did some cursory tests: it seems to work surprisingly well. I haven’t encountered any issues with it yet although I certainly imagine that it’s only a matter of time. I spent the afternoon playing Siege. I don’t particularly enjoy it, to be honest, but it’s the only thing that seems to really work to keep my thoughts steadily and completely occupied. That, and sleeping, I guess. I’ve been doing both of those a lot lately. Even just a few minutes on my own, I start to unravel. I can’t stand this. I hope it ends soon.
First day back to work in-engine in what feels like a month. So much has happened just within the past week alone, I don’t even know where to begin to recount any of it. A part of me feels at peace, yet another part of me feels just completely hollowed out. I feel alone again. I guess that means I have to start working again. I don’t know what else to do. I feel like if I don’t, I’ll start coming apart.
