There's this sense of purpose I'm feeling start to slowly slip away from me. I'm not prompted to write very much. I just end up looking at pictures of beautiful people and going running and then coming back home, to end up eventually looking at more pictures and then going running again.
Maybe the running gives me a sense of purpose and that's why I'm leaning on it so much.
I like making my days productive.
And so far, they have been.
But I guess I miss feeling somewhat of use. Needed. And all that, you know?
This whole working backwards is a whole lot harder than I thought.
At this time last year, I knew exactly where I was.