This week is turning out to be fucking hard.

It’s kinda like the wedding week in that it’s constant drinking and no sleep (tough, I know!), but in Spain I had all my family and friends around me, glorious sunshine and the week off work.

This time around I have nameless worries, waking me at 4am like hungry rats gnawing at my innards (American Psycho meets 1984).

I want to sob it all away but I don’t have any tears. Instead I just have to keep my head down and grope blindly towards the weekend. Too late to do anything else.

I hope I make it out the other side with sight and sanity intact.


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