11:55 AM: There is an underlying sense of shame that pervades my consciousness this morning. It is almost palpable, but I am unable to identify the source. I feel as if I’ve woken up after a binge or a temper tantrum, but I have not drank and I kept my shit together last night, in spite of nearly losing it multiple times.
I am also unable to identify the source of last night’s anger. I did not have a great night at the gym, which is bound to sour my mood, but it seemed a little out of proportion.
I have felt a little out of sorts in general. I have been having greater difficulty with spontaneous articulation. A few days ago, I specifically recall being surprised by the pointedness and fluidity of my ability to convey concepts without planning or pause. I was as much a witness to the shit coming out of my mouth as those around me, but it was, in general, pretty good shit.
It’s as if my perceptive filter is filmed over with a lesser version of myself. Me -2.0. I am not entirely sure if the fix lies in a shift in mindset, a change in behavior, or both. Was I getting better sleep by going to bed a little earlier? Have small changes to my diet fucked up the works? Am I simply disgusted with the fact that I’ve repeatedly made daily goals and left them unmet (typically allowing sleep to trump a task that could wait).
Throughout the day, I will attempt to suss out the contributing factors by way of persistent self-beratement and masochistic scrutiny.
