I was hoping to write much faster earlier, but that went out the window. I started thinking more about what I was writing and I’ve got this moody, underwater-type music playing and that all probably didn’t help. Gave me the feelings. Can’t do this with the feelings. Only makes things go bad, or something. So now I try to write a bit faster. Now is the time where I do the thing and the thing is more writing.

Ah, I’m gonna get moody again.

See, I can’t do this, sometimes. Sometimes I just want to write the most pointless crap anyone’s ever read, and instead I get all serious and heavy and downbeat, and that carries me through but it doesn’t make for fun. Who wants to read years and years of someone being miserable? Who really wants to read that? But I can’t be happy when I’m just listening to misery coming from my phone and into my ears. I can’t do that.

But maybe today is the day. Maybe today is the day where that all changes and I finally reveal myself to be the greatest best who ever didn’t. If that happens, I’d be over the moon. I’d be chuffed. I’d be so chuffed that no one could out-chuff me. Therefore, something something and so on and so forth.

I think my hands might be getting weaker at the moment. I think I’ve been losing too much sleep, and therefore need to bounce back by having too much sleep. I can engineer this, somehow. I can make it happen. The question, however, is: Will I bother to make this happen? Right now I’m stuck on trying to not be miserable, however, so I need to focus on that. I can focus on that by hurting my wrists even more than I already have.

I’m looking at this and I’m looking at the landscape I’m painting, and I can only wonder as to how far I must go before I can’t go any further. Perhaps there will be a day where I call it a day, and in knowing the name of the day I know the shape of it and, subsequently, how to proceed from here.

It’s not over there.

So it’s moody music and moody times, and I feel like I’m underwater, or experiencing life in a living room that has one of those underwater lights that always seem so cheap and tacky, even if a little wonderful. I feel like I’m meant to be on drugs and having a moment. Getting all deep for no reason. Don’t need drugs for that, though. I can get plenty deep sober, and dig far too deep doing so, too!

And so I am feeling it and now I’m starting to pull out of that, and I don’t know. It’s just another day in a chain of days. I know how to get through it, and the music is wearing off on me. Fine with being underwater still, though.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:31:90

Technically not pointless, but you get the idea. Also, slower than I’d hoped.

Written at work.