It's 10:30 in the evening. I'm upset. It's probably due to what happened for the last few days. To inform, I'm taking summer classes. Not on anything exciting or beautiful and profound; classes that are more or less needed in order to graduate.
The first week was...soft, to say the least. It was fair and jolly.
But by Week 2, and overcoming the third week today, things got hectic. Things got busy. Every night I'm up until midnight trying not to procrastinate and get sh*t done. I haven't made any sizable art or writing in a very long time. Everything's been really...expected of me.

I have a roof over my head. I have a mother and a brother. I have a family who loves me. I get to eat my meals. I can get up every morning. I got to foster my love for music and art and literature. I can read. I have six dogs that love me no matter what I do. I can carry a tune. I can move and shake it. I mean dance, but not, well, dance. Dance, dance.

I'm incredibly grateful.

But why can't I just feel...bliss?

I love my life. I would not trade it for anything in the world. I have gotten this far, and there shouldn't be anything stopping me.

But why do I feel like there is something stopping me?
Why is it so hard for me to sit down, write some sentences for a report, or make a few slides for a presentation? Why do I end up lollygagging for 4 hours staying up late when I can just finish my job in under an hour?

It's frustrating. I don't know what my problem is. I have everything I can want, but I'm still hollow.
I'm living...but I just don't feel alive.

And maybe I do need to feel alive. My mother singlehandedly brought me up with the prudence only a mother can hone and possess. My 7 year old self would be angry that I stay indoors all day just to feel "satisfied".

Maybe that's just it.
I just don't feel satisfied.

I need to be. I want to be.