the dance of the ink riddled fingers

these words are not enough

Posted in 52 pickup, how was your day? by enisea on 26/07/2010

I keep trying to read happiness/contentment/something like that. Blog-hopping and online stalking is exasperating the void rather than helping it, as well as folding my time into measurable planes which I carefully construct, then sigh as I release them apprehensively.  I planned to briefly sweep the house clean – dishes, clothes, vacuum. Catch up on sleep, prep for tonight, tomorrow and next week – two classes next monday, uni starts tomorrow, 30-40 kids on sunday, planning ridiculously early assignments, read worthwhile books and write in that separate diary I’ve neglected of late.  Oh the tune’s been the same for about a month now. Where did it go? And I swear I had more money in my account… ah the life of a university student! It’s been half a day now. I’ve done half the things I’ve needed to do, I just don’t know if I’ll have time to rest up.  I want so much more, just more; without being ungrateful, this cannot sustain me.

You are good, you are good, when there’s nothing good in me.

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