It already a morning it is, and that’s because the sun has risen. That is how it works when you’re here and not there, where there is not here and here is over somewhere else, thinking about its life choices. It do be how it can at the best of life.

I’m really, really good at writing terrible opening paragraphs, and I’m fine wi0th that. What I’m not fine with is all of the spelling I’ll have to fix up once I finish this. I’m easy. I’m going all over the place. It’s not a good way to be.

I think the lack of sleep I’ve had over the past few weeks is really starting to get to me. I think that means an early night tonight. Let me get sleep in. Get some good rest. Then go n from there. Go on and wake up early and drive into the middle of nowhere, for tomorrow is a driving day. It is a day driven by the owner of the motor, and the motor will get m to where I want to be in pieces and shards. And then I’ll reform and I’ll become… the carmobile.

Actually, that’s really silly. I’m gonna drop that.

So it doesn’t seem like I’m functioning too well this morning. I’m writing this and I can see so many words being underlined, and I can see that a lot of them are spelling errors. Some are just the way words are spelt in Australia, but most are… actually I think all of them are spelling errors, so far. Oh god. Not going to be a good day. Everything is wrong and and odd and weird, and I’m stuck here, bearing the brunt of my mistakes. Bearing the brunt of my errors.

They keep on coming and they are coming faster than I can keep up. I don’t like this. I don’t like the way this is all spiraling. This could, of course, be so much worse than it is, but this is bad. This is bad and I don’t like it. I need to do something to change this around. I cannot blame lack of sleep, but I am blaming lack of sleep. I think that’s part of the best course of action that I can take, but right now… yeah. I don’t know. I don’t know a lot, really, but I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know how to handle this.

This should be a day of celebration and it’s a day of suck. It hasn’t even started yet and I have so much to do. I have so much to churn out and catch up on and I’m going to burn out and be set on fire, and that will be that. This will remain this, but that will be that and I don’t know if I can even. I can odd, but I don’t know if I can even. And even that sucks. It could be worse, of course. It could be so much worse. However, my hands are not cooperating and they are not striking the correct keys. They are raining fiery injustice upon the wrong keys, and how do I stop this from happening? How? Why? Why is it happening?

How do sentences work?

So now I must part with my hands and find new hands, and I don’t know what to do with this information. I just know that it needs to be done, and I am crying internally. I am crying a sea of tears and they are filling this office space and I cannot even fathom. I literally cannot even.

But of course I just need to keep on going. My hands are refusing to relent. They are refusing to halt this serious miscarriage of justice. I cannot stop them. I am a slave to my hands and their refusal to be respectful to my time and lack of it, and they are refusing to cooperate and allow me to write what I feel like writing in a way that prevents me from needing to go through everything in fine detail in order to make sure that it’s all correct.

Oh, woe is to me. Woe is to me and I am merely a passenger upon this chaotic journey through tedium and boredom, and I cannot wait for things to change, for once they do, I will be free. Once I am free, I can then write what I so choose to write, and I will no longer have to clean up all the mistakes that I have left behind. All the mistakes you will never see. Or you will, depending on how lazy I am.

I can be a lazy person, but not today. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, but not today. Today is all about getting the churning done, or so I keep saying, but today I really do say. However, I do have to admit that I am bound by the fact that there are only so many hours in each day and tomorrow I become the carmobile, and will be hurtling down the highways to wherever the next stop lies, and then I’ll be there and take up too much space and I’ll drive in a really bad way, and then… something else will happen. I’ll probably encounter my greatest enemy, known only as the hands that keep making mistakes, and then I’ll wake up and realise that I’m still here, writing this bit of shitty writing, trying to get to the end of it all and find where the answers all lie. Then the answers will cry. It’s the way it goes and it’s the way it keeps going, and sure, that’s okay. There are worse things out there. Still, I am not happy about it one iota, and therefore the next thing will be much better, unless my hands create more issues, which they will, and there’s not much right now I can do about that.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 11:06:93

Written a few days ago, and this was awful to write. I was making many spelling errors, and there probably are a few remaining but I don’t want to spend the time looking over this.

Written at work.