I don't really know how to explain the way I feel right now, but I know that this is probably the best place to discuss it. I'll start off by saying I'm not the best at being a functional member of society, my stress and fatigue builds up so quickly that I'm essentially pretending to be able to work at the rate other people do. I don't have much choice, what with making rent and all, but I know for a fact that I'm not in a great place mentally. I work a warehouse job, overnights, 12 hour, 3 days a week. It sounds great, if you don't realize what you're going to spend the next four days doing- recovering from the work, and getting ready to work again. I knew something was wrong when I realized it was almost April. Generally speaking, I tend to experience time more slowly than I think most people do, and I like that, because it feels like I have more. But I got the warehouse job in January, and now it's April. I don't know where the time went, it feels like I've spent three months in a fog. I took a week off, and it was like getting oxygen after breathing in an airtight box for three months. I can think again, and I don't know how to process what I feel. The last week has felt longer than the entirety of three months. I'm a writer, an aspiring one, unpublished. I'm an artist, amateur, not anything special. I bring this up because in three months, I haven't lifted a pen to draw, and I haven't written a word. I'm dreading the weekend. I can't help but expect my brain to be pounded back into the same square shape, lost in fog again. I don't want to go back. I know I have to so I can pay rent and buy food and frivolous things that I can't help but realize in my clear state meant nothing to me and didn't ease the fatigue or constant pounding boredom.
I don't know what to do. I don't even know what one can do. I just know that until I get the hours to get another week off, I'm not really going to be alive for another three months.