Coffee soothes my days when it’s cold.
Yet, it doesn’t give me ideas on what to write or to make. I’ve found a constant struggle to both write and to create.
Always with the “Why”, or optimizing. It gets tiring a lot of times, as my hobbies turn into a chore.
When did life got so boring?
To feel as if I need to make a list of my hobbies in order to enjoy them, as if they had a final day.
Guess that could also be my own death. Which sometimes feels closer than expected, specially during cold lonely days. It feels like it could happen at any time.