There used to be an overpowering need to prioritize the documentation of my life. Now so many days end completely the same as they start that I no longer can separate the weeks from the days or the days from the months aside from the stagnant and uninspiring landscape that trudges along slowly behind. There are no names. Just slow repeating memories.
Nothing inspires me anymore.
Nothing compels me to continue except a stubborn need to simply exist.