It’s only the seventeenth day of the second month, but for most of 2015, I feel time escaping me. Like I’ve stated before, I’m not sure if I keep running out of time or if I want to do too many things. February has been spent doing stuff for the Art Fair and going to a new place (Taipei!) for about a week, which means that I was out of the house for most of it.

This week, I’ll be spending catching up on work and blogging and Project Life, but I’ll be heading off to Caramoan on Sunday for a few days. I’m looking forward to that, partly because I haven’t been to Caramoan, and partly because I want to catch up on my reading. So far, progress has been slow-going. I have simultaneous reads going, but I have yet to finish a book for 2015, which is slightly embarrassing.

I’m trying to get back into the groove of things, and I don’t know if this confused old lady I have to deal with daily (a.k.a. me) has always been this slow or if my brain has decided to die much quicker than my body. Speaking of body, though, I am actually really, really sad about my weight right now. I know that that is such a stupid thing to be worried about, but it actually, honest-to-goodness worries me. I teeter between wanting to get myself healthy and saying “F.U.!” and eating everything in sight. So far, I have also been doing both. So maybe my body and my mind are actually deteriorating at the same time, but I’ve become too oblivious to notice.

How does everyone else do it? I don’t remember being this stressed out about “getting things done” and I hope that I’m only writing this in a distressed state, and not as a permanent mindset. Because I don’t want to stress about doing things or not finding enough time and I don’t want to spend my time regretting all the things I didn’t do because I simply felt bad or afraid or worried about other people’s opinions. I miss not giving a shit.

I spend so much time stuck in the in between that I’m scared I’ll never find my way out again.