Here I go again. Down. Dark. Shattered. I wish I knew why this comes over me. I shouldn’t be depressed, not now: We’re going to Gothenburg for the annual book fair (and for a reason so positive that I’m not even allowed to talk about it!); I have a wonderful girlfriend who stands beside me unwavering; I’m going to publish a short story-collection around the turn of the year; work on the childrens book is progressing very well.

Even so: all I feel is tired, disconnected and joyless. I told my doctor it feels like my brain is shattered in a thousand pieces and I simply cannot put them together no matter how hard I try. Nothing interests me anymore. I write nothing, read very little and my sword collection doesn’t energize me like it used to.

Nothing, I say, alright that’s not entirely true. I still like playing a good board-game, or working on my home made cupboard. At least if I’m not too tired, which seems to be my normal state of mind.

I know I’ll be out of this crap sooner or later, but everything seems to be later right now.