A moment in time

There are thirty minutes until I start work. Ten of those need to be traveling time and I should also shower and eat. At the very least I need to get changed. Into an unwashed shirt I might add. Fuck.

So naturally it makes perfect sense that I pour myself a small glass of red and sit and try and write something. More fucks.

Right now exhaustion seems appealing. It would be a step up from what I currently feel. Yes I have passed the point of exhaustion. Probably about Wednesday last week in case you were wondering. Fuck this night shift bull shit.

The amount of times I have used the word fuck is a fair indication of how I am feeling. Not that it matters because I am pretty sure that no one even knows this little corner of the internet exists. Actually it is probably not even a corner, more like a micro speck.

Fuck it all.

I miss writing so much that it hurts. It physically makes me want to cry. If I were not so far past the point of exhaustion I would have tears rolling down my rosy reds as I type right now. Actually that is not entirely true it is the fact that I have to head out the door in like seventeen minutes that is holding the eye waterfall at bay.

Back to the unclean shirt though. I feel the need to explain that I wear an under shirt, which I have a clean one of it is just the outer shirt that is unwashed, so that is all fine.

Anyway I now have 18 minutes so best I be a moving