25 may 2016

i flipped through my calendar for the summer and suddenly realized it's going to be hard for me to continually stuff things into it. expand to fill all available space, i always tell myself. life's too short to spend so much time sleeping.

and that's why sometimes it's 5am and i'm hiding under the covers with my nose pressed against the steaming glass of my phone, trying desperately to fall asleep so i can have a good morning. eventually, sunlight creeps into the room and i notice that i'm awake, which means i must have fallen asleeep at some point. it's too early, so i roll over and put a pillow over my face.

next thing i know, it's almost noon, and i'm alone in the house.


in my annual performance review, my boss wrote that i got a tremendous amount of good stuff done despite us having a really bad and stressful thing to deal with. i corrected him, saying it was because of having a massive, identifiable stressor; my response to stress is to keep my head down and plow through project after project with a manic fixation, because that keeps me from dwelling too much on things i can't affect.

i don't know if it's a good response or a bad one; i don't know if it's a clear indicator of how things are going. i'm dangerous when i'm bored; i'm dangerous when the only thing i have to look at is the inside of my head. it terrifies me in here. i reach out to try and touch things beyond myself so i can have any sense whatsoever that the entirity of existence isn't just this, but i have no way of knowing for sure.

it doesn't matter either way, so it's better to try.