Need to get in the zone and I need to think about what I’m putting forward. I’ve just taken a look at my drafts and the amount I have has gone up, and that’s not good. I need it to go down. I can get it down, but it’s going to take a lot of work.

There’s about a month left and now the stress is starting to set in. All the stress and pressure, and all the laziness I’ve expressed and exhibited, and I can get everything wrapped up in a month. I can, but it’s going to be tight. It’s going to be tough. But I can do it and I will do it… so long as I allow myself to do it.

No rest over the next month. No downtime. Just continual production. Continual creation. Continual expressing of nothing that needs to be expressed. That is what I will do. That is what I am good at doing. I will continue to do it and I will do it merrily and with some sort of jubilant resignation to the fact that I will probably have another meltdown before the end of it all. But I can do it and I will do it and I will get there.

I remember my time at university, studying. Studying, working a lot and maintaining a social life. It was tough. It was rough. It was not the most brilliant thing I have ever done, but that’s not saying much. I remember it being a slog. A real charge through frustration and annoyance and I was melting down quite a lot. Sitting there, being rough and coarse with the people around me. Eventually I got through it all, and to be honest I was relieved. Now I sometimes find myself thinking about going back. I probably won’t.

The reason why I mention this is that getting through all of that was much tougher than what I am about to do. This will still be tough. This is still going to take a lot of work, but I can do it. But do I want to do it?

I think the answer is no. I think that a big part of me either wants to stop right now, or just wants to continue with this space. But I can’t. I can’t for my own health and general function. It has gotten in the way of so many things in my life, or rather I have let it get in the way of so many things in my life. It has probably served as a coping mechanism for far more things than I care to even think of. Probably. I don’t know. I have so many thoughts and none of them go in many  directions, but I keep having them. The same things circling around, swirling, trying to take precedence and getting that focus for a brief moment before being flung away by whatever is forcing its way in more than whatever else is forcing its way in. And so on and so forth, and it continues on and I just deal with it all the best that I can.

I think, also, I just feel tired. Twelve months of loss and pain and misery and all that, and I’m still standing which is great. I’m still going strong. I still grieve and I still hurt, but I’m getting through it all. The rolling of the coasting has been pretty severe, but I’ve survived and I’ve kept going, so what does it all matter how severe it has been? But it does matter, and so does this and so does everything else that I do, even if it doesn’t matter. In some way it does. In some way it all does.

So I’m sitting here and I’m trying to make the most of the time that I am fortunate to have. I’m trying to make the most of what I have and how I have it, and I’m getting there. I’m getting through everything and that’s great. I just need to keep on going. Need to keep on working through everything and powering through. I can get there. I always make it in the end. I’ll make it to the end of this end, too, and then I’ll be done. I’ll move on and spread my wings by spreading myself further. Thinning myself out and going in too many directions at once. It’ll be fantastic.

I’ll burn out harder than anyone else has ever burned out before me. They will then see that there are no limits to the stress and misery one can inflict upon themselves, and then who will get the last laugh? Then who will be the one standing at the end of it all, going “Well, you told you so”? I don’t know who it will be, but I will say to them “I told me so?”, and then there will be some confusion and a bit of arguing and all those fun things. All those things that keep the spirit and the soul moving in tandem, and I’ll be underjoyed. A great way to be.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, beating myself over the head with pain and misery, and then misery and pain.

But more seriously, I think I can get everything nicely wrapped up, if a bit messily. I don’t think it will happen and I’m worried about the continual piling on more things that I’m doing to myself, but so long as I keep going and stick to a notion of a plan, I am sure that I will get there. I am sure that I’ll get through whatever it is that I need to get through, and I’m sure that I’ll get to the end of this all and I’ll be okay. I’ll feel some relief.

I am worried about letting go as much as I’m worried about reneging and continuing. I’m sure I will let go, but who knows with these things.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:10:47

Decent speed, serious writing. Nothing about this one sticks out much to me, and maybe it’s due to being just an anxiety writing, I guess.

Written at work.