Ennui is soft and has gradual edges, there is no horizon, no obvious step that can be taken to cross its threshold, and leave. I have been sitting at home playing on a game. Eating twice a day; I am not doing enough to need more food, and it conveniently keeps my food bill down. Smoking roll ups out the window. Coffee. Tea. Wake Late, Sleep Late. Perhaps a walk to the shops, perhaps not. Perhaps a bit of productivity, probably not.

I’m slowly doing very little, and I’m wondering something. I’m wondering what shape my life should take, and whether I should fold it in on itself yet again. I left University to be an actor, I found the institution too small. I left acting to look after my health. And Brighton because I felt alienated from myself. I’m now sat in a flat in Streatham, working in film – albeit in a technical role – wondering whether I should leave my work to do something more stable. In a way every decision, every act of quitting or leaving was done for self preservation and to protect myself from pain, the question is when is the pain necessary, or maybe will the pain stop? If you quit, you don’t answer that question.

I long to have a voice, as an actor, director, or artist. Not so I can be listened to, but so I can speak, for myself, to listen to myself speak. And to speak about things that matter to me, understandings I have come to, lessons I have learnt, and notes on life I have collected. I also need to eat, and sustain myself, laugh, see friends, have fun, talk about my feelings, other people’s feelings, and things that have no bearing on my life or others too. I am trying, hard, to find a way of balancing the variables in my life so that I can be well, have a voice, and have good relationships. And not just to have those things for a moment, but consistently.

Things will change and morph as they always do, I just need to say yes to the things that move me closer to the balance I have described. Right now, there seems to be very few ways I can do that, and so I sit and wait, playing my game, in some listless limbo called ennui.