2025-02-24

This practice of writing has been becoming gradually mundane. What happened during the first week of February was the end of my residual thought logs from January, which are ideas that have been stored inside my brain for months and years. In a month, I have exhausted them all in my logs, written in the worst structure that I can even think of.

However, the first week of this month also taught me about how repetition of the mundane can give me insights to my own mental and emotional state. Doing this practice allows me to just sit still and think about what I want to talk about and having exhausted my residual ideas, I am forced to confront the present and use that as the topic for my current log. A repetition of similar connected ideas in a span of a few days tell me that I am dealing with something that is obscured to me by my vision of the present and I let things be because having a bird's eye view of my mental state is impossible because it is always meant to happen in the future.

So the next unknown is "when." I do not know when is it the best time to change gears from passivity and to finally go back to the driver's seat. When am I supposed to once again look at myself with full context of what I know to connect the dots and make sense of what I am feeling. A month has passed and it still hasn't occurred to me how should I make sense of what happened to me during that first week.

There were some attempts during the fifth and seventh day but I am feeling that compared to January, my memory is weaker in terms of what I wrote during which day. Last month, it was fairly easy to reference my older notes and instantly make a connection to the past as I am writing.

As I try to link those two previous notes in the previous paragraph, I tried skimming some notes from this month and I don't remember writing them. Sure the sentiments are what I can remember but actually writing them and putting those thoughts into these pages feel like a repressed memory and that I was meant to forget the type of person I am when I wrote them.

There is something in this month that I am failing to see yet.