LATE UPDATE
I haven't written for almost two months.
I think I was afraid to. Afraid I wouldn't be able to figure out what mess goes on in my head. Yes, I truly have no desire to write. I don't even want to motivate myself to do so.
My reflective capacities have slowed down sharply because of a lack of Scripture. I'm also afraid to read Scripture. It will break me, in order to revive me.
I currently live in a room alone. I enjoy it. Finally, a time of solitude before I'm launched into a 6-person room with RA duties to boot.
I've indulged in my personal temperament too far these past two weeks. I watched more than 10 movies and reached combat level 36 on Runescape. Part of that was because I didn't go to work for a week due to a sprained wrist.
I haven't felt this empty in a while. I've lost my sense of purpose. Some comfort zone; I don't feel right whether I'm sleeping or awake, reading or on social media, watching movies or doing homework, with people or alone. I need God, but I am not willing to go to him.
I've been thinking a lot about my past and my future, trying to figure out who I am so that I can determine who I will be. Particularly, I thought about my past creative works. In my stories, I observe consistent themes of loneliness, fantasy, awakening, and purpose. I hated using narrators in my stories, because I felt that they ruined the mysteriousness of life. Except for my childhood works, my characters are never heroes; they are passive people flowing downstream until something alters their perception of the world and of life. My stories usually end in medias res—in the middle of things—with something to look forward to, usually so that my audience could finish the story with their own lives.
