With the disappointing month I have been having someone had the guts to put this message through one of my lists:

Is there any task in life that you do regularly (such as writing) that you
once enjoyed but now it feels like work to you- an obligation? Why do you think
that you lost the joy that used to accompany that task? Is there anything
you can do to regain the pleasure that you first felt when doing that
activity?

Well, let's see how this answer goes:

I used to enjoy writing, being by myself, having or savoring sexual thoughts about men I may never meet.

I used to enjoy eating with the hopes that an ounce of fat would not be left to accumulate in my body or that I would have ample time or a busy schedule lined ahead that would enable me ot work it off.

I used to enjoy going to the movies and watching a double feature of R rated movies or any movies at all without worrying if there would be any bad language spoken or violence that is not children friendly in it. I used to enjoy long walks and watching, waiting at cafes for the nice gentleman in the corner with his stale cup of coffee to come chat me up.

I used to enjoy writing what I visualize exactly as I have envisioned them without worrying if this may really be what the reader gets to see when they read it, or hoping they do get to see it exactly as I envisioned and happy that my little visionary has helped them see the light in themselves.

I could go on and on and on...the things I enjoy none of them makes sense to me anymore...something in me numbed out enjoyment and in its stead put in gore, regret, pain, and bitterness.

I am just a clover leaf afloat on life's merry wind chimes waiting for the storm to brew and toss me into a garbage where I once came, where it feels comfortably like home.