Monday, October 16, 2006

That old familiar feeling. The Monday night feeling. You may know it as the Sunday night feeling. But its worse on Monday nights, because Tuesday morning is the morning I get up in the dark and go to work. I've been earning from my words one way or another since I was 15. I never found the line between my job and my identity. I don't want my job. I don't want myself. I'm sitting here trying to finish up stuff I should have emailed in this morning. But found 1001 excuses not to. Things keep happening to prevent me finishing things. I can't complete anything. I think I wish for them. My phone line down. Problems with work's server meaning I couldn't dial in. 'legitimate' distractions. I think I conjure them. I'm so afraid that I have that twisty pain in my chest. When I was 12 I couldn't finish a creative writing assignment. The teacher extended and extended my deadline. There were 'legitimate' distractions. The morning came when it was expected, but I hadn't been able to finish it. I stole my mothers cash card, bought a train ticket and ran away. I'm 34, I have my own credit card, but there's nowhere to go. I was caught, returned home, and still had to finish the assignment. When I finally tore it out of myself and handed it in, I got an A, but she wrote "as ever, I wish you'd written more." I want to quit my job. I think if I quit my job I'll get really sick again.

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