It’s late. Or early. Pick one.
I wish I was sleeping. But if I sleep, that means I have to get up. That means my mind will have to start to function all over again. So instead of winding through the same putridly stagnant thoughts, like I am right now, I’ll get a new and fresh slam of them in the morning.
I wish I was rested. But if I rest, then I’ll have energy. That means I’ll feel everything as clear and sharp as sleet. So instead of breathing in and taking time, like I should be, I’ll keep skittering along on coffee, strong and black, and hope that I can just hold out until Tuesday night.
I wish I was dull. But if I pretend I’m stupid it might actually happen. That means that the gurgle of pathetic trickling through my system might simply take charge, and that would be horrifying. So instead of falling back on hapless self-pity, like I have before, I’ll press on with a sturdy support of resilient crankiness for a while.