So, here it is. It's been a week. I've spent the bulk of my time trying to do anything but think, since reflection makes out to be a pretty painful experience. Not thinking about it is kind of like avoiding the elephant in the room, but the room we're talking about has one small door and solid walls. Observing the elephant, thinking on it, does nothing in the way of getting it out of the goddamn room. So I'm trying to think about the elephant in the room as little as possible, and to that end I've mostly been playing video games and reading. People around me have noticed the change in temperament. It's hard to maintain a sunny disposition, considering. I've been an absolute fuck to deal with at work, and these long hours of quiet aren't helping. I pray for catastrophe, if only to occupy my senses.
I haven't been able to speak to anybody without being forced for a while. Something about the tempo and tone of my voice just grinds conversations to a halt. They know I don't want to talk. But it isn't all bad all the time. Trying to keep busy. Work's terrible for that. I want to take more days off just so I can sleep. "I love to sleep. My life kind of tends to fall apart when I'm awake, y'know?" Damn you for being so right about everything, Hemingway. Fuck. I wish I could apologize, but I can't even do that. Not that it would do much good. Apologies.
This is going to last. I can feel it. This sickness is making a home in my gut and it's going to tear me apart. I'll live.