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I’m so restless that I’m in a constant state of seeking distraction.

Just enough to get by day to day so I don’t have to sit with my thoughts for too long. So I don’t do something I’ll regret.
I sound like an addict. “I only need a little. Just a little to take the edge off.”
But it’s true. It’s not safe to be still.

Two years ago, I craved purpose. Like a true bigger purpose that would fill me up. The day-to-day grind, the money, the position of “power” only gave me so much.
I wanted more. I wanted different.
So, I left. I ran away from what I didn’t want and into something I did. But now, I’m sitting in this coffee shop, writing the big feelings and dangerous actions of fictional people for the 298th day this year and it’s also not enough.
The worst part is that I just knew it would be. I was convinced.
Now that it’s not, I have no idea what to do.
I have no more options.
No more ideas.
No more motivation.
I only have distractions.

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