It’s beginning to make me angst. I’m writing blog posts, reading magazine articles, playing video games, exercising daily, working on my dissertation, cooking proper meals and even attempting to help out with some housework, yet as the sun sets and day turns to night I can’t help but feel some sense of existential dread. I’ve remained surprisingly positive throughout this whole experience yet there’s a void opening up inside of me that, as much as I really don’t want to admit it, can only realistically be filled by social interaction. Yes, I’ve been productive for the last few months and yes, I’ve stayed in touch with almost all of my friends but, for lack of a more elaborate set of words, I’m starting to get bored. There’s only so much reading, writing or video calling that one can stomach before you have to admit to yourself that things are pretty crappy and you’re sad about it. I wouldn’t say it’s a sense of shame but there’s certainly a feeling of disappointment that I’ve finally had to admit that I can’t keep myself happy all the time. Most of the time it’s fine, I’m focused on the task in front of me, and even when I’m not I have Snapchat or Facetime to distract me, but they’re slowly becoming less and less satisfying as the conversations become repetitive and the novelty of it all wears off, if there ever was any. I’ve always enjoyed a very close relationship with my Mother and I obviously think the world of her but there’s only so much emotional support & reassurance that one person can provide you with and, with my access to everyone else temporarily curtailed, there appears to be nowhere else to go. I feel like a nuisance relying on other people for continued distraction but, realistically, what else am I meant to do in the current situation? I’m relatively sure, and I certainly hope, that I’ll wake up tomorrow as happy as ever and go about my daily routine wondering why I felt the need to write a piece wallowing in as much self-pity as this one is, yet the certainty with which I feel this will happen has declined steeply over the past few weeks as I realise my daily routine is a facade I’ve convinced myself is necessary to get through this. There is absolutely nothing or nobody to stop me spending the entire day in bed tomorrow, watching shit on Netflix and eating as much as I possibly can, my renewed sense of self-worth being the only thing preventing me from spiralling into a monotonous routine of spending my days feeling awfully sorry for myself. I spend the whole day in front of screens, dreading the moment I have to put my laptop down, close my eyes and finally be alone with my thoughts, no Snapchats to reassure me and no social media to distract me from the utterly hopeless situation we find ourselves in. God I hope I wake up in a better mood tomorrow.