"and then the cookie crumbled"...
9am
My eyes are burning because they cannot do this anymore, every limb aches in protest and yet I linger on, punishing myself, fighting something that is trying to tell me otherwise. Every bit of good sense asks me abandon this feeling, but I persist in my foolishness.
11am
No, I have not been able to relax and don't think I can for a while. I keep wondering what it will take. Each second the unhappy realization hits me and I feel nothing but misery. The crumbling cookie is all I can think of.
My level of self-destruction is legendary. Oddly enough, knowledge of that fact does not prompt me to act any differently.
2pm
It was time to clear my head, though it was a trip with a purpose. Unfortunately, the stuffy tube ride to Notting Hill did not cure me. The crumbling cookie was all I could think of. Neither the sights, sounds and curious delights of the antique market, my impulsive purchases nor....
6pm
...the endless episodes of 'How I met your Mother' that I blankly watched, upon my return, did the trick.
7pm
I resumed the number-crunching, although it resembled data entry today. I had lost track of all meaning, demolishing tissue after tissue as I went along. The crumbling cookie again.
Midnight
All promises to the self forgotten, every ounce of will astray. It is too powerful and outside my control. I cannot help it, despite myself. In the distance, the cookie continues to crumble.
1 comment:
do we need to talk???
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