What is even going on? I’m sitting here and nothing is happening, and this person is droning in my ear and I have no freedom to articulate or respond. I cannot get away mas they follow me wherever I go, and so I feel nothing but a strong sense of being trapped against the wall. I’m fighting against the wall and this person won’t stop going on.

There is no escape. There is no getting away, unless I try to concoct a plan of most gracious complexity and appreciable fancy. But do I really want to do that? Do I want to push against that which holds me back? Would it not be better to resists with all of my might?

I don’t know, and I don’t know if I want to know.

Still, there’s so much out there and this voice says little, if anything, of import and the person who belongs to the voice is in my face and I just want to get away from their hot breath. I don’t need that kind of warmth in my life. I’d much rather find avenues of creativity, but I just can’t be bothered right now. I just can’t be bothered to resist.

Can they not just leave me alone? Can’t they go away of their own accord and harass someone else? Can they not just harass no one at all?

Do I even have a leg to stand on here? Perhaps I’ve earned this without realising and the surprise I get from all of this is actually the reward. There is no terrible fate and really, I just need to learn how to appreciate whatever it is that’s going on. I need to learn to appreciate it as I’m clearly being snooty and uppity about the whole thing, and there’s nothing wrong with the situation at all.

But no, I can’t be bothered to deal with it. I can’t be bothered not dealing with it either. Someone else decide for me. Someone else get the thing sorted. Get it out of the way so I can continue being a sack of fatigue and collapse on the floor, but in a way that suggests some sort of stylishness… even though it’s all mess, of course.

It keeps on going. It is endless, and I am stuck in eternity, and I am tired. I’m over it all, and I need some earplugs and maybe something to guard my face, as all the breath moisture is collecting on my face and leaving me feeling more uncomfortable, and there’s nothing that can be done. I’m listening to empty words and they don’t change. They speak more and say less, and somehow find a way to become more empty as time goes on, and it’s impressive in a way, but it’s not something I want to be dealing with.

I’ve got places to be and people to see, and this is what I have to deal with, and it’s entirely bothersome and wholly unfair.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:11:53

I feel like perhaps this would’ve been better not being written.
It felt like it took an incredibly long time, and it’s far too messy and rambling.

Written at work.