The days are becoming a
blur. My nights are being spent awake in
pain, unable to sleep. The
screaming meat I call
my leg prevents me.
As the sun rises, I’ll eventually find some rest, only to be woken by the
alarm within an hour or two. It is then that I test my leg, and see if it’ll support me to
stand,
get up, and
go to work.
More often than not, it does. The rest of the day is spent in a
sleep-deprived daze that puts an
edge on things, and makes the world seem much more
slow, and
harsh than it really is.
On other days, I lie in bed, unable to stand, and I bite my pillow to avoid calling out in pain, hoping that my employers will
believe me again.
...
I will be going to work
tomorrow, and
Sunday as well. Regardless of pain. I’ll put in my hours, I’ll do my work, and I’ll leave and do it all again ten hours later. If I choose to
quit my job, that’s one thing... I will not allow my performance at work to become
substandard, however.
...
It seems there’s been nothing happening that is not
work and is not
pain.
I don’t know what’s happening with the show on
Valentine’s Day. I don’t know if it’s happening. I haven’t been able to follow up on anything.
I don’t know whom I
owe money to, I don’t know who I’ve
paid off. I’m uncertain as to what day of the week it is, what my
commitments are, and if I have any desire to attend to them at all.
It worries me that I do not feel guilty about this.
The world is
cardboard right now, thin
cutouts and
tinny recordings.
This will pass, given time. All things pass, given enough time.
Existing in the moment, however, it is hard to escape to the future.