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This week has been pretty okay. In retrospect though, for however much a few days’ worth is worth, I feel a bit sad, and I don’t really understand why. I guess it feels like Christmas — and maybe in an unfair extrapolation, the entire year — has passed by with little effect. Although factually, I know that’s not true: in fact, a lot of pretty big, supposedly life-changing things happened this year. Why don’t I feel any of it then? I’m scared that this is what growing older is like. It feels unbearable. If the rest of it is just like this…

I’ve been trying to find some refuge in small passing things. I enjoy looking out at the snow gathered in my yard, and editing clouds and landscapes in Skyrim. I enjoy going on walks with my mother and working with my father and playing games with my friends and volunteering at the church. Some days I even still enjoy reading, although not as much these days as I did before. I think I’m growing boring, if I haven’t already. I’m not scared of being boring, or being bored. I welcome it, I really do. But at the same time I find something about it deeply saddening. Some days I lie there and think about it too long and I feel like crying, although I’m never actually able.