Feeling rough, but managing. Don’t want to feel rough and just want the day to pass on by. I want this feeling of illness to be over, but of course the only way to beat it is to wait it out and waiting it out is what I’m doing. Taking time, but so many things do. I don’t want to complain, but I will.
Whinge whinge whinge whinge whinge.
I don’t know what else there is to say really. It has been a long day. A stressful one this morning and now it just keeps on going and I seem to be stuck on a particularly lengthy stretch that refused to end and refuses to relent, so I’m stuck here, frozen in a slow part of time and there’s little I can do about the issue, so yeah. Yeah.
It’s all about the waiting it out and the day is nearly there and I’m just being dramatic, but I want to be dramatic. I want to make this a bigger issue than it actually is. I don’t know if I can, but I can certainly try and trying is what I am doing. There may be no success, of course, but there will be plenty of trying. Maybe I will get there, but I probably won’t as the day is in the afternoon and it nearly is time for sleep. Of course this is if you consider about six to seven hours away being nearly here, of which it is not and so… yeah.
So anyway, there soon shall be rain and rain shall fall on this region and there will be some other stuff and it all just continues on and on and sleep will be had and then there will be the waking up and all the things that come with that as tomorrow will be a different day to today as today is Friday and tomorrow is Saturday and of course that brings with it a whole slew of things that I am yet to consider right now. I should consider those things but I won’t as there is no time for that. Feeling ill is where my scene currently lies and that is something that I need to be more willing to embrace, or something. I think. I don’t know.
I don’t know where I’m going with all of this. I’m sure there is something in the imagery of the words, but it is lost to me and so I can only continue on aimlessly and blindly, hoping that the exit reveals itself sooner rather than later and then I can get on with the resting that I want to do, assuming that I even want to rest of course. Maybe I don’t want to rest at all and just keep on going. It is all a mystery, much like my continuing with writing these things, though of course it is not and I’m just pretending or something.
Anyway, it is time for some more rest.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:03:88
Wrote this a bit earlier.
It’s kind of okay. A bit messy.
Written at home.