It hasn’t stopped being crazy since last week. I was quite wrong to bitch about being stuck at home with nothing to do two Sunday’s ago. Right now all I wish is to rest.
I think I haven’t worked this hard and frantic since … ever. And mind you, that’s saying a lot specially coming from someone who use to have two full time jobs. The level of difficulty is so high not because the work is hard. I don’t mind the work load, I’m trained and seasoned for that but some other things like emotions thrown by people on all sides are hard to manage.
I’ve never really been good with volatile individuals. It takes a lot for me to manage it; I’m no shrink you know.
I usually flow smoothly doing what I know and adding things in the mix to improve but for the past days at work, it seemed to come in waves of sloppy tangles brought about by frenzied delivery. Truth be told I’m growing unhappy of how things are happening.
When your days are filled with tension and the thought of something is always wrong you grow tired. Irrevocably drained.
If eight days can do this to me, what would become of me after thirty?