Fuck the asks
Just ride just ride
Away and on far
The taste was on par
With something you had
In a dream
The flavor of soft voice hope
or cucumber cream ale
roses on a vanity
We taste the drops
In mood and quality
But shore it up with valor
I woke up this morning to my mom texting me about going to see a set of houses on Tuesday, and I just started crying, I didn’t even know why. It was just all too much. After the night before and too little sleep and so many different anxieties eating at me in small and not so small bites all too damn much and also a tiny sliver of hope and light. I sat on the edge of the bed just crying silently for like an hour, texting my mom my true feelings and my real fears about my unstable income, and fucking it up, and how it would be a lot less easy to deal with if everything fell apart. I couldn’t just move back home, that absolutely last ditch back up safety net I always know I have would basically not exist… or at least not exist in that same way. And she said she believed in me, and that I should remember her life motto (which is “don’t be a life pansy”). So… on Tuesday we’re going to look at it. We’re going with a realtor to see a bizarre set of 2 houses on the same lot. My brother and I could each live in one, with our significant persons. And we could split the mortgage and each have a small private yard and it just might be doable. I texted him too, asking if he would really want to do it, and he said yeah. I asked him which one of the houses he would want and he said he liked the back one, but would be cool with either. (I like the front one, but would be cool with either.) And dude… I feel stupid even talking about it it’s such an incredibly long shot. Like…… it’s soooooooo fucking long. I feel really stupid even allowing myself to have any type of emotions about it it’s such an incredibly long shot. Like……it’s soooooooo fucking long. But my tiny heart spark burns and beats and wants and hopes, despite my best efforts to be a robot.
These days all blend together
into a puree of yes and no
drug yourself to sleep with pills
drug yourself awake with caffeine
Self care under cold water
washing it all off
mine own self,
resist the pull
of your dark mind
take nothing to your skin
no sharps or shards
no pins or palms
It is not for you to choose
matters into hands
and quickly out of hand
you know it
Breathe slow bite lip instead
let morning you live
In peace and not regret
Last day of this round. I want to feel happy and excited to finish it but I just feel sorta empty and sorta scared and very exhausted. My neck is still killing me. Like… really, a lot. I still barely slept last night. It’s been a long while since 8 hours happened. whatever. Expect the worst, hope for the best. I’ll either be right or pleasantly surprised. These last 5 are gunna be extra hard to write, because they are bottom of the barrel style. Whatever. Let’s go.
(5)wrote this one backward, that made it slightly less terrible somehow. Probably going to do the next one that way too.
(4) Another backward one, done. Also My S.O just went out to run errands for me and bring me food. Also I just spontaneously started crying, so that’s cool.
(3) finished. More than halfway through. I just got accepted for a new assignment, I didn’t even have to do a trial for it the client just asked if I wanted to do it because they are familiar with my work. It’s just a small thing, but it’s a thing. It’s already loaded. I’m not even gunna look at it today.
(2) done. only one more to go. I’m feelin” helllllllla ravaged in an ot fun at all even a little bit type of way. Like… super uncool style. And I’m planning on going to the gym when I’m done with this, so that’s a thing.
(1) and done. 136 total wedding guides written for this round. That’s so fucking many, and yet it doesn’t feel like enough. Okay, okay, I’m done. It’s done. I’m done. Peace.
Let’s try this again. More writing. 8 more to go before I can go to sleep. I have plans relatively early tomorrow so it would be cool if I didn’t have to stay up until like 6am finishing this work. I **will** fucking finish it tho. It’s time. I’ve gotta.
**********************the next day******************
Finished everything. Went to bed at a halfway decent time, still couldn’t sleep for shit. Got maayyybe 4 hrs sleep.
Went to a cat cafe. Pet a lot of cats. Looked at some houses that I can’t really have. Ate at pita pit. Took a nap.
Now I’m back with 10 more in my queue. Down to 150 in the pool like I predicted. Gunna go fast. I gotta finish all these and grab more. Tunnel light in sight. We’ll see.
Also, my neck is killing me …. possibly from sleeping weird, possibly from being hunched over this laptop for a ThOuSaNd HoUrS.
I’m tired and I’ve written 4 guides and I’m hungry and everything feels gross and bad
5 done. I feel like crying, what the hell is wrong with me? It’s all too much and I’m so tired, tired, tired of this. I’m sorry brain, just a little longer, just a few more.
6 done, everything hurts and I feel terrible and this is terrible.
TiMe FoR eNeRgY GuM
7 done. Nobody knows it but me, when I slip, when I slip I’m still an animal
I can tell how little I slept because of how irritable I am and how much these pandora commercials are making me want to go into a fit of unbridled rage.
8 done. Fuck this and fuck that and fuck country clubs most of all. I am an invincible, unstoppable caffeine chewing, bullshit spewing MACHINE. Coming in for a landing motherfuckers.
9 done. Trying not to think too much. Hahahahah. I feel traumatized. Trying not to think too much.
This is the worst, seriously. I’m too tired and I’m soooo drained from doing this for basically every waking moment for days and weeks????? I’m DREAMING about ballroom sizes it’s so terrible I feel so mentally mangled and not like myself and just fucked. fucked. fucked. Just so tired and weak and it’s still not even enough. It’s not even enough it’s not enough *internal screaming*
It’s so heavy on the heart
So heavy on the full eyed soul
How can I keep it all up?
Fire keeps hot air balloons up
So maybe I should light
alight upon a window sill
With gentle wisps and gone
onto the next tire fire of a day
One that won’t stop burning
Or biting in
With teeth and spurs
With crops and kicks
Until the true sleep stirs
stirs up batches of dreams
all sweet and real and frightening