by HelluvaGirl

Work is overwhelming. Must be a pre-spring reboot that I crash at 7.30 pm. Sleep becomes medicine. Work is split into the most belated tasks to be ticked off. I dream the office at nights. A cigarette at lunch time, looking at a single spot at the entrance. Back to the mill. Car needs maintenance but whatever. I kinda wanted to write about something but I don’t feel like it now. Someone speaks about my present in their past tense. Wakes me up.

That ship sailed away.

I ought to get on one, too, I guess? Preferably, on time next time.

Thinking I’ll leave the day after tomorrow for good helps significantly. Brings me back on the right track of performing but not getting attached to the process or end result too much. Not getting into it emotionally as I tend to. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Another level is thinking that way about life in general. And dying. Makes small things look small again.

Everything is small.

I’ll go to sleep now.