devolving to a state of ennui

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I’m not the same anymore and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Maybe its neither and I’m just living in a passing moment, waiting for something to happen. Its that feeling of waiting that’s so familiar of a taste, I don’t know if I ever stopped waiting. For what, I can’t say. I did some reading and after consuming Sylvia Plath and Ottessa Moshfeg, I stumbled upon the word ennui, meaning a lack of spirit. And I hate myself for feeling this way because so much depends upon mindset. I know what I want, and I know I really need to devote my mind to getting there. But somedays I can’t help but feel absolutely nothing. I’m just waiting and I want to go somewhere finally where I perceive myself in a way that is whole. I’m sick of the way I easily break myself down and crumble to a state of ennui. Ennui, it seems to be the only thing I’m not waiting for, embracing me even as I long so deeply to smile. Nothing matters as long as there’s ennui. ennui. ennui.

But I know in fleeting moments I can feel other things, I can smile, I can cry. I can feel such anger and dread and jealousy. I am human, I just need a minute sometimes. Ennui I feel you, but I am not you. I am not a part of you, you are just a fleeting moment. One that’s waiting to pass. Everything matters.