Oof, there goes January.
Work got busy, but that’s better than the alternative. I do not do well in idle time.
Even though I retreated from social media, replacing the habit with news, random history wikipedia holes, and and arting around different apps, the internet stills feels like a nag. Notifications typically mean work—or personal guilt. The things I avoid. The conversations I allow to hang until I feel inclined to respond. I can’t seem to get myself out of the way. I’m trying, though. I’ve plateaued on my Id and I am ready to move past, yet there she is, mountainous. She lays traps along the path that I am learning to evade.
Yelling