Morbidity

It's all in the head, my dear. All in the head. Excuse me while I put down my thoughts in writing. A virtual Pensieve, perhaps.

First, the problem : a nasty feeling inside.
The character: an obstruction, a feeling of something left undone, but as yet unidentified.
The effects: restlessness, dissatisfaction, disgruntledness.
What has been done so far: empirical measures to see if this problem is real, or imaginary. These include surrogate pseudo-activities such as re-playing old computer games (i.e. Diablo 2), trying to read lecture notes and texts, tinkering around with the tank and associated equipment, busying myself with the club's affairs.
The result: here I am, still pondering over what's wrong.

It can't quite be a lack of a goal, can it? I know jolly well what must be done, in all aspects of life. I actually think I know what's wrong - it can be either of 2 things.

1) I need a MAJOR change. Something REALLY drastic. I need to do something about a physical aspect of life - like a complete makeover of my room, of myself even, or of the tank.
2) I need a break. A real break. Back of beaching and having a lovely drink at the beach bar.

OK. I KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG. FINALLY. I GOT IT. IT'S NOT ANY OF THE ABOVE.

EUREKA! =D

Crap. And I can't do a thing about it. What a major sucker. Sometimes, it helps to write things out.