I can’t lift a lot of things.
I can’t cycle.
I can’t even play guitar.
Well, to be fair, I can do all of these things and more. It just hurts more than it should and I feel like my wrist is weak.
It’s almost as though, through some sort of repetitive motion that caused strain, I’ve developed an injury in my wrist. Quite possibly through working hard on removing a panel of a model of something that was heavily glued to the rest of the model and needed to be removed and re-positioned in order for it to sit properly as it was leaving a massive gap around it and thus threatened the very aesthetic integrity of the model.
It’s only almost as though it was like that. It most certainly wasn’t that though and I will deny the overwhelming and irrefutable evidence presented that undeniably shows that it was, because I can choose to deny and ignore whatever I want!
If politicians can do it, then so can I dammit!
Oh, what a horrible fate that has befallen me in these trying times of darkness and turmoil!
I don’t know how I will survive or even get along with living my life, for it will never be the same.
The injury may heal, but the memory shall forever remain in my heart and mind like a blighted scar upon my very being that does not prevent me from moving on and accepting that it has happened, forcing me to undergo some sort of lengthy personal quest about self-discovery and acceptance whilst ultimately leading to the changing of the fate of the world.
Quite possibly the fete of the world as well…
There’s nothing I can do about it, I am in so much pain, blah blah blah…
Well anyway, yes, my wrist hurts, I know why and it is rather bothersome, but for some reason I’m still doing stuff that I shouldn’t, like typing furiously at the moment to try and get this finished as quickly as I can, because despite my need to rest my wrist so I can go back to cycling among other things, I have too much of a desire to continue doing things that I shouldn’t right now as I’m rather restless.
It would probably get much better if I just rested a lot more than I am, but I must persist as a lack of action is seemingly something that I cannot do right now, for I have too much desire to keep on pushing through the pain because I don’t seem to understand or want to accept that resting my wrist will make sure that it gets stronger sooner whilst reducing the chances of further injury.
At least I’m not cycling at the moment, but I would prefer to be.
Perhaps I can still play guitar. I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps I should try.
Or better yet, perhaps I should take it easy until my wrist is the strongest wrist ever.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:18:48
Well, that was an interesting bit of melodrama.
It could’ve been a bit more mellow on the drama, but then it wouldn’t have been as passionately dramatic, like a caressing wind embracing the most worrisome of hearts.
Written at work.