tavie.com

Sleep, you maddening will-o-the-wisp, why do you taunt me so?

Why, when I try to sleep here, does everything I loathe about myself seep down like poison ink into my thoughts and maketh me to toss and turn and hate and hate and hate? That doesn't happen at Mint Manor.

Tomorrow will be another painfully sleepy day. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Tomorrow I have some sort of training session in some other building with some person I don't know wherein I have to learn how to use some stupid program I don't want to know about, and it'll probably be unduly complicated and I'll look incompetent and I'll stutter a lot and bob my head up-and-down-and-up-and-down as if I understand what is being said, my chins and blobby neck quivering with the effort of holding my exhausted skull aloft.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:46 AM | shower me with attention