I find that I’m self-censoring a lot lately. Not out of fear or shame or whatever but mostly out of boredom. I feel the revealing myself in terms of thoughts and feelings would be more of a hassle and chore than an actual useful action.

In the logs the same things happens every day. Only slight differences occur to keep the devoted Reader occupied.

But when it comes to writing the logs my brain is empty. It’s autopilot time as I record a skeletal representation of life during that day. Of course, what is there to say?

In terms of action, the days rarely deviate from each other. Wake up, breakfast, some work, sleep, repeat. I could record the inner monologue but that’s reached the fever-dream realities of a desert ascetic.

Maybe I should–when the outer life is denied the inner life blossoms.