Having one of those moments where I know that I can’t see my life and am missing the purpose of it.

Spending far too much money, more than I ever have, carelessly. Thoughtlessly. Compulsively. Because I’m bored. Until I feel sick. Forgetting Indonesian minimalism. Throwing out piles of embarrassing cardboard shipping boxes.

Not really eating. Not really interested in eating. Went to the doctor today to get something for work that will make me more productive but may not make me happier and saw the scale at 115. Realized I was losing weight and — frankly — enjoyed that, but would have guessed 125. She says I’m healthy, he says he’s worried, I can’t be bothered.

Waking up at 4am. I actually really enjoy the experiment, but this grew out of a feeling of not getting enough life in my day. There’s that feeling again. Some social activities and don’t fit within a 4am schedule. There’s that feeling again.

Dismissive of my family. Letting my internal mess spill into their lives with dirty dishes and pet mess.

Feelings of panic attacks right below the surface. Walking along the street in Union Square, with billboards and signs and sales while riding peaks of clarity and waves of fear.

Love my work. Hate my work.

I‘ve lost sight of something. What is it? Matter/what matters. Worried about forgetting this and falling back into the Matrix.