Lately, I’ve developed a strong aversion to being asked out. Barbecues, picnics, group hangouts—none of it appeals to me at all. I can’t exactly say that outright, so I usually turn people down politely and claim I’m busy, then go home and lie down instead. Honestly, the only moment that feels like real relaxation is when I’m stretched out with my phone in hand.
I’ve also been staying up absurdly late these days. Deep into the night, when everything is quiet, time finally feels like it belongs to me. My mind can go blank for a while. I don’t have to think about work, or life, or all the little things that wear me down. That part feels especially peaceful, and I enjoy it more than I probably should.
If I happen to scroll into an outdoor camping video at that hour, even better. I’m weirdly drawn to those videos where someone camps in the wilderness after heavy snowfall, digs into the snow, and sets up a tent in the middle of a mountain sealed off by winter. Something about hiding away inside that tiny shelter looks incredibly satisfying.
Sometimes I really do wonder whether I’m depressed. I’ve tried to check in with myself, and I think I’m still within the range of normal. It’s more like I’ve lost my enthusiasm for life. “Just getting through the days” is probably the most accurate way to put it.
Life feels dull, and the only reliable distraction left has been power-fantasy web fiction. I like slipping into the protagonist’s world for a while—the over-the-top confidence, the wish fulfillment, the easy thrills. It helps kill time when everything else feels flat.
Some people look down on that kind of writing, but I genuinely enjoy it. I don’t really care if the prose is rough, and I don’t care if the logic falls apart now and then. As long as you’re willing to lower your guard a bit, you can just go along for the ride and enjoy the rush.
The problem is that lately even novels aren’t working anymore. I pick up my phone and don’t even know what I want to do with it, but if I put it down, I feel strangely unsettled. Lock it, unlock it, repeat. Over and over, without any real purpose.
I probably do need to adjust something about the way I’m living right now. If I keep dragging on like this, maybe it really could turn into depression. That’s not a luxury I can afford. The mortgage still needs to be paid, and my wife is still counting on me.
So I should probably make a plan and leave for a few days. Go somewhere unfamiliar, stay there for a bit, let my mood loosen up.
Right now I’m thinking about Tibet. I’ve heard it’s the kind of place artsy people are drawn to. Maybe I’ll go join the crowd.