I’m writing this not for anyone’s benefit but my own. Certain recurring thoughts and emotions have stuck in my mind for weeks now. Whenever this happens, I’ve found catharsis through writing, and I’m hoping to achieve a similar result with whatever this ends up being.

I wouldn’t say I expect to feel any better or even necessarily different, but I hope that the way I’m processing and coping with this might change for the better.

I was broken up with back in May. We had celebrated our fifth anniversary together roughly two weeks prior.

It caught me almost completely by surprise. Not entirely, thanks mainly to lingering paranoia lurking perpetually somewhere in my head. But still, it was a shock.

I’m still reeling.

After a few days of the initial shock and numbness wearing off somewhat, I started feeling more normal. Normal isn’t really the best word, but I felt something akin to my typical baseline. Almost fine. Functional, if a bit detached.

I don’t know what exactly has happened, but the past week it’s hit me, hard. Wednesday morning in particular was bad. And now I don’t feel anywhere near normal.

Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s depression, maybe it’s shock.

The only word that comes to mind to adequately describe my current mental state is “broken”. I’m not functioning correctly. My sleeping patterns are even worse than normal. My usual aches and pains have intensified in all the wrong ways.

I still haven’t contacted her in any means since that day. I’ve wanted to, but I don’t know if I’m emotionally capable right now. And these past few days have only increased the desire to re-establish contact amidst my declining emotional state.


I’ve barely been able to make myself productive this week. I’m in my head confronting these negative emotions to such an extent that simply writing a purely factual article has been borderline impossible. I only worked two days the past week for a total of 16 hours across all different jobs.

I’ve had to shelve several active projects that up until recently had been progressing at an acceptable pace. I’ve simply lost the will to continue that work. A few of them, I’m not sure when I’ll start up again. That’s partially why I started the YouTube channel, to give me something different to think about. It’s much easier to narrate a process I’ve done for years than to actually be creative and original.

I’ve made jokes about not knowing what to do with myself, but they’re not really jokes. I sincerely don’t know what the hell to do now. What used to be normal for me has abruptly ended, and I’m struggling to fill that void.

I want to be angry, because I’m good at angry. Angry has a direction and a cause. But it’s not happening. I’m not angry, I’m broken.

I’ve alternated between blaming myself and feeling empty. It’s the slightest things that have set me off. A particular song, a momento on my desk, a thought of a past vacation.

I’ve had friends willing to accept the cascade of nonsense I’ve thrust on them and the socialization has been nice. Yet, it’s not helped my emotional state. I don’t know how I’m supposed to reassemble my reality nor what this refurbished reality might be.

I’ve made some incredibly stupid decisions this week, which have done absolutely nothing positive for me and have likely caused further stress. I’ll regret them eventually. Probably.

For now, it seems the best I can do is to force myself to do something productive, and hope that my periodic bursts of sanity and stability last long enough for a tangible outcome.

Even as I’ve felt stable enough to accomplish something, i’m struggling to keep my thoughts organized. Simple tasks are suddenly a lot less simple. This post alone has taken the better part of an hour to write.

I really, really don’t want to be “that guy” on the internet. I’m not looking for attention or even reassurance. This, to me, is more about aggressively typing my problems into the void on the off chance it flicks some sort of chemical switch in my brain. The possibility of it helping in the slightest is worth the amount of whatever my current definition of effort happens to be.

I said as it happened that I’ll be fine. Probably. Eventually.

But right now, I don’t know where I am or how to get to wherever “fine” is. And I don’t even know how to define “fine” for me anymore. This is what I mean by broken.

My brain and I had a tenuous at best relationship before all of this happened. I don’t even know if I have the necessary coping mechanisms for this.

I started a project in Inkscape to preoccupy myself, and halfway through, I stopped. I lost the desire to finish it, because whatever sense of accomplishment or satisfaction I get from finishing and publishing a project hasn’t been worth the increased cost of energy to do just about anything productive.

I don’t know what to do to conclude whatever this is, so I’m just going to stop now. It’s 1:30 AM and I’m drained.

This is all just stream of consciousness, and I hope it’s coherent enough. If you’ve read this far down, I appreciate it, and if you want to talk to me, there are easy ways to get in touch. I’ll probably respond too.



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