Lately, I am not writing as before, despite the fact that I am far more active, but the things I do are only activities to survive, I mean, all what I do is taking the dog for a walk, buying food, cleaning the house, and similar things. It’s like if I were a robot which has been programmed to do those tasks. I don’t enjoy, but I don’t suffer either, I just do them.
I suppose I am better, as I don’t spend most of the time sleeping, but I don’t feel alive either.
I just have the sensation of being full of a cold sadness in this hot summer.