When you’re bored and unemployed, and the only things you see everyday are your ceiling and the tube, you tend to flow into the subconscious. My mind makes up things that I have a hard time figuring out which one is real or not. Scary. Insert shudder here.
Dramatic pause.
You know what? Scratch that. I may wallow. I may sulk. But I’ve never been one to toy with my sanity. Or so I say. I wonder how my friends would react to that. They’d probably feast on the fact that I’ve finally, FINALLY earned my straight jacket. White is so my color. Whatever.
Wait. Off topic. A definite sign that I may be mentally challenged. “May” being the operative word here just in case my future employers are reading this.
What I’m trying to say is that it’s been two weeks without work, two weeks since I’ve jumped off my spinning routine and two weeks since my heart has started aching. There is no immediate cure for this and please don’t tell me that TIME is the cure because it isn’t. Time could never cure the sudden urge to see a particular person in the middle of the day or perhaps in the night or the fact that I can conjure him with just blinking in rapid succession.
That’s it. I’m going nuts.
