Days get stuck sometimes. It's 10:36 a.m. artificially, an hour ahead of where it was. Time may be a construct but when there are shifts, it can make traction more difficult.
I've stopped writing here because I suspect someone I've stopped talking to in real life reads here. Maybe many people. I don't seem to be good at keeping friends, and I seem to do whatever I can to revert to solitude as I wait for death to claim me.
No more adventures, I tell myself, but there is so much boredom in my mind as the weather begins to get nicer. Is this really what I want to do, I ask myself.
At some point today I will make myself run a mile. I am going to try to get back in shape, and hope I don't get bored of this, or don't prioritize work first.
In a minute I will hit publish on this and hope that will give me some sort of a boost. I know I just have to start and maybe it will work. Perhaps a coffee will help.
I keep dreaming of leaving and just searched "jobs in Chicago" but probably need to do better research first. Yet, as soon as I think of such things, I realize I've got a good thing going here.
It's just that there will likely be many days where I don't want to do this anymore.
Yet, it's what I do.
Getting stuck isn't an option, so I'll just have to keep writing in the hopes I'll fashion a line.
 |
| Spot my story? |
Comments