History Repeating

I am quite stressed.  There is no reason for this, it is just the existential thrumb of being, coupled with too much time to pay attention.

I am trying to switch it off.  It is not working.  I am a self-obsessed fool.

I need less time.  More relaxation.  I don’t know.  I am still having imaginary conversations.  I thought I was thinking about things so much, so I sent some emails without thinking about them, and now – now I can do nothing about them! – I am thinking about them.  Over and over.

It’s very dull.

Today:  the bubble bar that smell’s of juniper.  Gin and Tonic.  Sparkling Pumpkin.  Something like that.  It’s becoming a comfort blanket.  An orange, sparkling comfort blanket.  I still have a stash, from Christmas, but it’s dwindling.

I am worried about tomorrow.  I am not going back to work, I have some time off, that’s lovely.  People will reply to those emails, I might have to do things.  I am worried about that.  People might not reply, and I am worried about that too.  I could just turn my phone off.  Such a simple solution.

I have fallen down another 90s Spotify rabbit hole.  It’s become Bluetones Bad.  I kind of want a pizza.  Thin crust.  Cheese.  Tomato.

I am thinking in food.  I am tired.  I am cross.  I am trying to explain things to people who can’t hear me.  I have overdosed on salt and vinegar hula hoops.

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