I don’t know.
Sometimes, I really don’t know why, or possibly don’t remember, why I even bother getting out of bed anymore. It’s not comfortable out there. No one needs me out there and I don’t need myself out there. Sitting in that chair. Exercise? Yeah. But I’m not sure that’ll be doing anything since, at most, I only go 30 minutes in the morning. I miss last summer break. Everything was so bad that I didn’t think of motivation. Just how unmotivated I was. All I thought about was my own self centered sadness and guilt. In my own bubble, in my head. My thoughts. My feelings.
It’s summer break again. And soon enough, I’ll be looking back on this point in time and wishing that I could go back.
I really, really don’t know why I get out of bed.