Winter is the worst season. Everything is bleak, dark and cold and it brings out the worst feelings burrowed deep inside of you.

I’ve been sad a lot lately because of winter and because of loneliness and because of a deepening lack of fulfillment with my job and the poor life decisions I’ve been making. I’ve felt stuck because I’m not really sure what exactly would make me happy right now.

My writing is becoming stagnating because I’m not writing for me anymore, and writing for other people has gotten so arduous that I don’t even like writing at all right now. My actual job is relentless and everyday I come home and curl up into a ball and pray something happens that forces me not to go in the next day.

I go back home to see my parents at the end of the week and I’m not thrilled by that either. There’s nothing in my old hometown for me there either. I don’t really belong here or anywhere that I know of. Hell, I’m not even sure who I am anymore. My life has devolved into a mess of hangovers, laziness and bad decisions. I feel no control.

This is not a cry for help. I’m not interested in holding hands and talking it out. Kind words aren’t going to have much of an effect here. I understand that people have bigger problems– this is just a release. I’ve been trying to figure this life out for 24 years and I’m probably not gonna stumble on the answer tomorrow. Maybe someday things won’t be like this but for now this is what it is. Winter is here and I am a ball of sadness.