sulk day 2; stunted

I don't feel like I'm living. There is no Now, no current moment. So much of my experience feels vicarious and fraudulent, all knowledge and instruction without experimentation or even movement. Fantasy, escapism? Deadlocked arrogance? Bittersweet. Escape seems like the only protection I have against such undermining surroundings. Am I shielding myself in detachment from a perceived contagious apathy or a disconnection in direction? This cowering isn't a life at all. I can only manage by convincing myself that it is preparation for later enterprise, but such buffoonery fools no one. Am I molding a persona without habitat? It shouldn't be this difficult just to exist daily. But I struggle to withstand the increasing burden of harm such passivity exudes upon both my surroundings and my own worth. (Change hasn't been drastic enough. Solitude isn't working but the ditch has been dug.)

Condescending, directionless, and miserable - no one benefits.