It used to be that whenever I needed to get out of my head, I’d lie in bed for hours, phone on silent with the screen facing down while I stared up at the ceiling if I wasn’t lost in a book.
Then 2020 happened, and that was basically life every single day for the past five months. What was a sanctuary to keep me sane is now breeding ground for a plethora of mental issues, new and recurring alike brought to you by extreme isolation, everyday anxiety about life on hold, the lack of sunlight, and probably the fact that I haven’t done anything new to my hair in a long time.
Mostly I get by—and, really, I can only say that because I’ve been feeling so devoid of emotion I actually haven’t had a breakdown in months. So my days have been divvied up between just lying in bed and being absolutely useless at worst, and just lying in bed doing absolutely useless stuff at best.
(I’d start calling myself a robot, but I think that’s an insult to them—at least they have purpose.)