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Less Than Twenty-Four

I’m like the Ramones, twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to go, I wanna be sedated.

It’s another case of not wanting to hope, because it’s been years of being kicked in the teeth whenever I dared to.

I can’t settle to work. I can barely eat, sleeping was difficult–I spent most of last night in a YouTube rabbit hole full of Letterkenny and Josh Johnson. (The former is because a friend absolutely and rightfully demanded I watch it, the latter was a gift of the algorithm.) I’ve got to laugh or I’ll start screaming. The tension is awful, and made worse by burnout.

I hate not working. I hate having even hope stolen from us. I hate trembling on this knife-edge.

If you’re on tenterhooks right now, you’re not alone. That’s all the comfort I can give. I’m right there with you, my friend. Holding the line and trying to breathe.

Less than, less than, less than twenty-four hours to goooooo…

3 thoughts on “Less Than Twenty-Four”

  1. I am trying so hard to do work and I just… I’m managing a bit, in fits and starts, but hoooooooo boy it ain’t coming easy. Here’s hoping we get through the day with no further disasters.

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