The past two days have been extremely turbulent for me. Starting a new job has made my transformation into an empty shell complete; feelings are dead and the warmth is gone. I hide somewhere deep inside and put on the automatic pilot. I don't want to be there; here - so I'm not. 

Obviously, this a way of living is not to be recommended. In fact one should avoid it. But I have very little strength left, so I just let it happen to me. I'm still inside there somewhere, but at least I recognize it now - with help from Andrew who always knows what's wrong. 

There are so many things I want to do with my life. So many lives I want to live. My life situation at the moment is painful, because it doesn't give me any joy. The only positive thing in my life at the moment is Andrew, but having the only joy in your life being your boyfriend isn't exactly ideal either. 

Fall is my favourite season; september is my favourite month. I'm turning 28 in a week, Halloween is coming up. These are all good things. These are all things I love. Yet I feel empty, like I'm letting my favourite things just pass by me without appreciating them. 

I think about work a lot. Daily; nightly. I work in sleep, I work in the shower. I work when I'm talking to other people, when I'm watching tv and when I'm making dinner. I spend so much time thinking of my current job because it's scary. Because I'm trying to make it familiar and non-threatning but it's not working out for me. So I stay there, mentally, it consumes me. 

Imagine what I could do with all that time. Imagine I had a job I actually enjoyed, imagine how much I could give to the world, to a job I love. I'd be such an asset, a time-asset. Someone who would commit. It frustrates me thinking of how much time I'm wasting at the moment. Andrew hates when I say waste instead of spend. You're not wasting money, you're not wasting time - you're just spending it. It just goes away. We shouldn't add negative value like that. But I can't help but think that I'm destined to do so much more than this, and it's killing me that I'm not there already. 

philosophy, daily, autumnEmma Carlsson