My life has hit a full stop. I'm in the same job. I'm doing the same things, seeing the same people, watching the same films. I'm in a rut.
Don't get me wrong, I'm having fun. But at the end of the week, it feels like I've done nothing.
It's times like these when there are always glimmers on the periphery, pinpricks of hope just daring me to take a chance. Take a risk. What, really, have I got to lose?
It feels like it's time to pick up my pen again. Time to start writing. It's that old, familiar itch that nags at me making everything I do to distract myself seem boring and pointless. It won't leave me alone until I give into it.
I feel ripe for another change too. I just can't put my finger on what.