Perfect conditions, no actions, self questions

Sometimes you just have the best environment, time and overall setting perfectly aligned for something you normally like to do. Everything is perfect, almost.

Except for the fact that you just blank out, it is loud. Suddenly feeling lost, yet the weirdly comforting perfect circumstances are still there.

The planets aligned just for you, yet you suddenly cannot decide which spell to cast.

What can that look like?

A quiet night, no obligations the day after. Cozy lights, calm music in a book nook model. Ideas spinning around for some stories, yet none of them click. An empty document right in front of you.

You have some time, a lot of inspiration to feed on, motivation and even goals, concrete ones. Yet you just cannot open the case of your instrument.

The gear is all there, you know what you want to do, yet the exercise routine never starts.

It used to be so easy. Or was it ever?

Finally it is all there, you see your progress with a skill, maybe a language, be it a natural one or otherwise. But you just cannot sit down and keep on grinding.

Even though you know you like it, you WANT to do it.

And what do you do, when you have a mental illness that prevents you from understanding or perceiving what you actually “enjoy” in the first place?

Does that mean you lost your passion for that particular thing? Are you falling out of love?

Or did you just never like the thing in the first place? Was it performative all this time?

Is that why you have so many interests that are simply too disconnected from each other sometimes? Leading to completely unrelated groups of people you talk to every now and then? The fact that even if you could get them in one room, it would just be a big awkward gathering?

But no, there are things you clearly don’t enjoy as well. Aren’t there?

I guess.

Or do they also just fit the frame of what “you” thought you should “not enjoy”, and you just decided to put them into the “dislikes” category?

Who knows.

Who knows?

Will the cycle of violence and misery ever break?

Who knows?

If only there was a bit of silence.