edit. select all. undo.

Waking up is not much fun business anymore. Lie around, wallow for the half hour I should be doing Yoga... dreaming of things that will never come to pass...
Its become a disease now, this motion picture track thats constantly running in my head, full of people and dialogues and events that shouldn’t mean anything at all. To be sure, other people have had much, much worse.

“get up, get up, get up. Get out, get out, get out of this rut.”

I miss work. I miss than delicious feeling, the feeling that’s like crunching on nuts or sucking on gooseberries, this semi-punishing-semi-delightful feeling of doing work you can barely contain your excitement for. When I was in school, I loved my books. They were overused, abused and falling apart. They had been scribbled all over, in many colored pencils, highlighted everywhere in shocking blue and had doodles of girl-faces on the corners of nearly every page. They were definitely the un-tidiest books in the whole class. But I loved them and they were such a mess because I literally, loved them to pieces. I loved the notes I’d write over them, notes that somehow, only I could make sense of and drove my tuition teachers mad. In my mind, I wasn't preparing for any exams, I was learning of the wide, wonderful world so it was exciting and I wanted to master it all.

None of my books look like that anymore. I don't love what I learn anymore. What a fucking waste my education has been.

But then, as I constantly remind myself, other people have had much, much worse.