Freelance hell
I don’t have days off. No weekends. No breaks. No line between work and life. Just me, the screen, and a stack of tasks that feel heavier each day.
I’m always “available.” Always reachable. But not really here.
Clients keep asking for updates. I keep lying. “Almost done.” “Just polishing.” Truth? I haven’t touched the code in days.
Because I can’t. Because my brain’s gone static.
I open the repo and it just stares back. Empty.
Numb loop
Maybe if I finish this one thing, I’ll feel alive again No, I won’t
At first, I thought I was just tired. So I slept more. Took breaks. Didn’t help.
Then I thought maybe I needed distractions. Scrolled Twitter. Watched anime. Read webcomics till 3AM.
Still empty.
It’s like… nothing works. Not rest. Not play. Not pressure. Just a dull ache in the space where my focus used to live.
Lies I keep telling
I should quit I can’t quit I should’ve never taken this client Why do I keep doing this to myself
I keep pretending I’m okay. Keep pretending I’m making progress. Keep pretending I care.
But I’m just stuck. Not blocked. Not lazy. Not procrastinating. Just gone.
This isn’t burnout like the posts say. This is erasure.
The thoughts that rot
I hate coding No, I love coding — but not like this I don’t even know what I like anymore Maybe I was never that good They’ll find out soon I’m just pretending to be a dev
Sometimes I wonder if I ever really belonged here. If I just tricked everyone — and myself. Imposter syndrome? No. More like imposter reality.
I look at other devs. Shipping cool shit. Posting wins. And here I am. Refreshing VS Code just to pretend I’m working.
I used to love this. Now it just feels like punishment.
How I actually spent my time
I’d open Neovim, stare, then close it. Scroll endlessly, not even entertained. Messages piled up. I lied — “almost done.” Didn’t eat right. Didn’t move. Tried to journal. Just cursed at the page. Watched people fix their lives while mine stalled. Said I was fine. I wasn’t.
Sleep. Wake. Pretend. Repeat.
Everyone else is shipping cool shit I can’t even open a file Just one more YouTube video Just one more scroll What’s the point?
Days blend. Nights stretch. I lose time like loose change — can’t even remember what I spent it on.
I dream of disappearing. Not dying. Just gone. No more pressure. No more pretending. Just… quiet.
I don’t want to quit. But I don’t know how to stay.
Is this what success looks like? Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.
Sometimes I think if I just finish one thing, I’ll snap out of it. Like I’ll be me again. But I never finish anything.
And I don’t even know who “me” is anymore.
So I sit. Hands on keyboard. Waiting.
For what?
I don’t know.
I recovered. Kind of.
One day I wrote code again. Just a little. It didn’t feel amazing. But it didn’t hurt.
That’s what recovery looks like, I guess. Not joy. Not clarity. Just… less pain.
I cleaned my room. Answered one message. Merged one tiny PR.
And that was enough.
But I’m not safe
I know this cycle. The slow climb. The short breath of air. Then the fall again.
Burnout isn’t a surprise anymore. It’s just a shadow I live with.
The work piles up again. The clients ask again. I say “yes” again.
I know it’s coming. Not today. Maybe not this week. But eventually, again.
And when it does… I hope I recognize it sooner. I hope I say “no” before it breaks me. I hope I don’t lie to myself again.
I’m still here
I don’t have a clean ending for this. No magic fix. No self-help wisdom.
Just this: I made it through once. I’ll probably have to do it again. And again.
But I’m still here.
Typing this. Thinking. Feeling something.
That’s enough. For now.