Untapped potential of creating something out of feeling down

For the umpteenth time the big heavy turtle of my adolescent apathy is being thrown out of the sea of facetious ordeal by the tide of artistic stagnation to rest on my chest. No matter the vast diverseness of my actions and precautions, the devouring torpor will eventually come to meet me again in my enormous motivation, which whilst trying to lift me off the ground fails to do so, crushing into the ceiling of my self-pity and falling back down in the form of fierce hail instead – the state when sleeping is a made-up concept, eating is boring, and every aspect of life is stodgy. "I'm a zombie in my body, I'm a train off of the track I feel dirty, I feel rotten, and the colors are all flat I'm a sad shell of a woman and I've got maggots for brains But that's just a thing that happens when···" [Maggots for brains; Olivia Rodrigo, 2026] ···I don't write or draw or sew or knit or write or write or write or write, or it happens when I try to write or draw or sew or knit or write or write…