I think I’m too important

And I feel I’m never doing enough

I find it very hard to sit at home. I wonder if that is a symptom of depression or some kind of burnout. I’m on antidepressants but is it enough? Am I doing enough? I think I ask myself that question everyday — many different variations of it.

Am I doing enough to have better health?

Am I doing enough to have more money?

Am I doing enough to find things I’d enjoy doing?

Am I doing enough to have wholesome relationships with people?

Am I writing enough?

Am I sleeping enough?

Am I having enough sex?

Am I drinking enough coffee?(yes, unfortunately, too enough)

Am I enough?

This unenougness drives me mad and out of my flat pretty much every day of my life.

Today is no exception.

These days, my unenoughness leads me to a new bookstore on the central street of Kyiv. Before, this was probably the Street I would spend the least time in Central Kyiv. Now, I’m here all the time. This place is so overwhelming in its width, height and human chatter — I feel like I can vanish and finally feel unimportant, to myself first and foremost.