The Indigestible

...I have no, I don't have to...

Calendar comes up clear for the day. Today. Starting 5 hours from now, and me with no sleep, and knowing I won't get any sack time before then.*

Good, so I can coast behind the monitors. Just shift, paste, compose. Wave hi, howyadoin.

Fuck, fuck me, I am so tired.

Not physically.

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* Why didn't I go to bed? Good question. It's insane to not go to bed when you know you need to, isn't it?

Earlier tonight, lucid. Now … yes, that fast. Less than five hours.

You clock in and go to work, clock out for lunch. Somewhere in that time, in that half-day stretch, apparently, I go mad.

That is your lunch. This is my life.

And this is not drama. It's quarter to four in the morning right now as I write this. This is a journal, kids. That's why I created the "Sickness" tag.

So you can see, and wonder why, and … if you're like me, know. It's not just you.