What’s going on with me?

That’s the question, is it not?

Last Monday, I announced yet another hiatus from social media. As much as I try to curate my newsfeeds, stupidity still manages to leak through. Frankly, I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. So for the past week, I’ve been re-evaluating things.

First, the Dire & Bette videos will be continuing. No worries there.

I’ve taken a small step towards resuming writing. This hasn’t been easy. I’ve faced so many setbacks over the years that I have to wonder if I still have the drive to do so. Then again, maybe I’m just overthinking things. I really don’t know.

The specter of my own mortality is probably playing a factor in this as well. I hit fifty in a couple years, I’m about to become a grandfather again, and I feel like all of my best years, the ones I could have spent working on my writing, are behind me, spent with a woman that didn’t appreciate what I was doing, or me, or even her kids in the end.

But I had drive back then. I was capable of being creative, writing entire novellas while collaborating with some very talented friends.

For the most part, all of that has changed. My friends, the ones I collaborated with, have to deal with what life is throwing at them. Whether the issue is medical, or mental, or just business-oriented, they have to do what they have to do.

I do understand that, and I don’t begrudge them that at all. But I don’t work well on my own. It’s best when I have someone I can bounce ideas off of daily, and it helps if they too are writers. When that doesn’t happen, I backslide. The lack of energy I’ve had since nearly dying isn’t helping either.

Nor does it help anything else. I have a nice stack of videogames I could be playing right now, but instead of doing that, I’ve been binge-watching Frasier. And knowing full well there are fewer years ahead of me than there are behind me, you’d think I’d be doing my best to enjoy that time.

But I’m not.

If only…