She is jarred back into place after realizing she was observing herself again.
More time is spent looking at her life from the outside. But even as this outsider, she observes what is inside her mind - the very thing an outsider could not know. Never does she observe her life like a real outsider, taking in all that is around her, because long years of training herself to look past those things are hard to surpass. Even for the outsider portion of her soul.
She knows all the things she should do. They weigh on her every day. But she is too tired, and maybe too lazy to do them very often. She sometimes thinks mediocrity is a choice, maybe even a valid choice, but secretly knows it is the result of not placing much care or attention on the things that really matter.
She writes about herself like a fictional character. For, often, fiction is easier than reality. Especially when you look at life from the outside.