One of the things that I don’t like about not going to work every day is… it gives me time alone to think. Given how inherently negative I am, this means that my mental meanderings often lead to rather unhappy places. I’m kind of surprised that I haven’t curled up in a ball of angst huddled in a corner of my room at this point.
It’s always the same. I always hesitate in starting what I’ve been mentally wishing to do for years, or how I never ever finish anything I’ve actually begun. Stuff like that. It’s funny, really, now that I actually have free time to actually do something, I just spend it all browsing the internet, reading other people’s works, and ending up feeling jealous at all these other people out there who’re not spending their days doing nothing, but actually being able to create something.
And then the self-loathing sets in, in how I’m too much of a big sissy to put in the effort to be like these people, too afraid of the actual hard work that goes into creating something like a novella, or even a web serial. Terrified to see if I’m really just a dabbler in the end, a poser… A hack.
Yes, free time for me is a terrible thing.