If you’d asked me just yesterday, I’d have told you the mountain of uni work ahead seems insurmountable. Hell, just last night I had a mini crisis. Today, that’s changed. Today, my first report has been completed. That first hurdle has been cleared.
I wasn’t being sardonic in the title, for most people who read this, this will be of little interest. The problems of strangers or even friends can seem so tiny when compared to our own struggles, but these problems are mine to deal with, and this is my way of dealing with them. While I’ve been writing every day, it’s report upon report. Dry language, nothing but the facts. Fuck, I’m not even allowed to write it in first person, even though it’s assessing my contributions to projects, or my take on events.
I feel like I’ve been living in third person lately. I wake up early, I stay up late, sleep eluding me in my anxious, constantly switched on state. Days have become a blur of working fervently in a quiet library, only music or shockingly dark humour breaking the monotony. God damn it, today I took a couple of hours out, tried to chat to a friend about the latest issues of Batman, and even that was a struggle. I think we were both so focused on work, the conversation was practically robotic, a forced attempt at levity. I hope I didn’t come across as uninterested, I was just distracted by constant nagging worries.
What I’m doing right now seems less like living and more like existing. Life has been a routine lately, a single purpose, tunnelled in by what needs to be done rather than what I actually want. What I want is to write creatively again, but I don’t have the time. Until then, this will have to do. Sixteen days. Nearly there.