Where did you come from

I guess I'm just a giant blob sitting around doing nothing thinking nothing wanting nothing and being nothing. So that's pretty depressing and I feel like I don't even get out of bed, I just roll around and roll around and roll right back into bed again. But then, aren't we all just rolling around? OMG you're right that's so deep and you are a scholar!!! I guess it's just a bunch of things that I don't know what to do and don't know if I can even manage to do anything. There's something where trying feels like doing something and so I'm too afraid to even try, or just too lazy, or something. So maybe getting up early in the AMs and doing pilates would be not just good for my body, but good for my soul, which I still don't believe in by the way. BTW. Don't you ever just run into the same person over and over and every time it somehow gets more awkward? Like, you didn't think you could match the awkwardness that was your last meeting (or running into of) but every single time it surpasses that last time. Or is it just you? It's probably you. But then, it's not just you, you know because you are a communicator and you can tell when someone else feels awkward too. I think, though, that my ability to read people is going away. Like I just haven't really been reading enough lately and so I'm becoming somewhat illiterate. Or maybe I've been reading more and so it lets me know that the things I thought I knew I never actually knew. When I write, I have this sneaking suspicion that the only person any of it would ever make any sense to is myself. I think I might be using myself as the audience, though, so I don't try very hard to make things comprehensible to anyone else. I'm still afraid and there's still things that I don't write because I don't want them to be true. This is how I've been writing my whole life, not because I don't know what's going on inside of me, because I'm afraid of what would happen if anyone ever got a hold of my writing and found out what I was thinking. I think maybe it's self-sabotage but how could I even know that when I don't ever let myself go all the way there. Would people be mad about the things I was thinking if what I'm thinking never actually aligns with what I'm doing? Maybe that's a good reason to try to write fiction. But then, they'd still probably know that it was just the truth in disguise.