My mind feels blank. Someone is there, but it has nothing to say. It sounds dramatic, but it's what happens when I talk to people. Or try to do anything by myself. Maybe I'm just asking too much of me. For example: I used to love reading. I still do but I used to more. I can vividly remember books, what I felt, what I saw, why the author wrote this thing that way. I can grasp why an author did a certain thing this way, but if I practice it in a vacuum, nothing is retains. Or it feels that way. The same thing for visual art. I can see why an artist did a thing a certain way. I notice the small highlight there makes the whole thing whole. But if I sit down myself, nothing comes. The same with everything else. I don't know, I just feel like I'm in this weird inbetween of knowing the reality of things and then not being able to live in it myself. If that makes any sense. 

When I talk to people, they have this really interesting reality  where all this stuff happens, and things mean so much, and the world just seems interesting. But the same stuff could happen to me and I'd think nothing of it, or be unable to make a sotry out of it. Maybe I'm missing something, I'm not doing enough or haven't lived long enough, or don't pay enough attention to myself (even though I think about what I'm doing constantly), or what. I think about what the infamous Louie C.K said "I'm just smart enough to know how dumb I am."

What gives. Sometimes luck works out in my favor and I do something right. But most of the time whatever I do feels wrong.