How am I Still Writing About This?

So many of my past journal entries contain the exact same feeling as the one I'm trying to convey right now. I'm not sure what I thought was going to happen. I thought unemployment would sort of figure itself out. Or that I would figure out a way to be perpetually unemployed, while still being financially responsible. I'm a little ashamed of picking up part-time jobs; it feels like regressing back to something comfortable.

I waste too much time on my phone. It doesn't feel like an addiction. I don't mind leaving my phone at home if I go for a walk, but it's mere nearby presence distracts me. I don't even know if "distracts" is the right word. Notifications are all off, but my mind habitually thinks of it, and my body zombily opens up the same pages every time. I like having music on the go, but not at this cost.

I am also extremely surprised to not feel the drive that I felt while I was working. When employed I would constantly think about how much I would build if I just had more free time. I would say to myself that programming 8 hours a day for work would leave me with no more energy to program for myself. But now I have so much time, and so much of it is being wasted, by me.

I don't like this city. I don't like how it makes me feel. Trapped.