#4 Marina goes i-landsproblem like never before

I have never before felt this useless.

I have no routine in my life. Nothing I must do, for myself.

Alright, I have school four days a week á 2 hours each. I have work two days a week. [And I theoretically have tennis three times a week.]

But nothing of this feels productive, or useful, or necessary or anywhere near striving towards anything meaningful. It is not enough. I am not happy about it, but I'm not doing anything about it, either. I'm stirring myself with my own stick, and that's about it. I'm a permanent bloody treadmill. I try to help my few friends. And I'm so static, oh so static.

Reality check. Four blog posts in one day. And I have done one of four required proper things today.

Pick me up and throw me against a wall a bit. Bounce me off the ground. Bash my head in the ceiling.

Punch me in the face. In the face.

Get me out of this comfort zone, this comfort house, this comfort country. Make me do something, give me pain to work on, work through.

Get past my defensive arguments for this state. It's not a good one. Get under my skin and make me feel like the dirt I'm becoming. But my skin is thick, now; I doubt you'll manage. I've created my own little conglomeration of certain occupations, my own little safehouse.

This is, my upbringing clashing with social norms.
This is, my brainwash at war with my observations.
This is, chaos in a fucking teacup.

I'm fine... But this fineness devours me. This is not what I'm made for.

Give me pain, give me glory.

I am blind.