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Recycle Bin Empty

17 Feb

Those blissful days when everything is going. Not going well, not going badly, but simply going. Where the day moves by faster than nostalgia and somehow, in some fashion, you keep up. A glorious combination of physical exertion, mental wracking, philosophical theorizing, and bits and pieces of satisfaction for a job well done.

This is one of those days. A day where running on two hours of sleep is the most amazing high in the world, and everything falls into place last minute after hours of buzzing and preparation. The basic bodily needs of sleep, food, hydration, all of it flies out of the mind as the world goes by in a blur of jet stream to the outsider. But you, oh you, are inside the global jet. Neither tiring nor hungering, a steady and productive flow of outputs continues to spew out of the system until the sun is long gone and the day is still burned into the back of the eyes.

But, alas, slowly but surely tasks are being completed at a faster pace than can be replaced. Like emptying the trash every other day, eventually you’re so busy cleaning the bin that items get compartmentalized and thrown out even before they hit the bottom. Weariness sinks in, eyelids move on their own as a strange blurriness fills the vision. Muscles that didn’t exist before now begin their long and spiteful protest, and a strange coldness begins to creep into the fingertips. What used to take one minute now takes five, and what used to take five minutes now takes twenty. Productivity decreases at an alarming, exponential rate while you suddenly feel colder, hungrier, and more tired than you have ever felt in your life. Walking the ten steps to the door knocks the wind out of your very bones and the breath becomes shallow, the heart getting softer. Going to bed almost feels like a death sentence, as there is no guarantee that you will awake the next day from this coma. Literally every ounce of energy has been spent from this shell and it almost seems as if the surrounding colors fade, to perhaps lend some of their precious energy to this dragging corpse.

Today, was an amazing day.

— Another sleep-deprived excerpt from my journal. Mm.. yeah…. I don’t even know.

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2 Comments

Posted by on February 17, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

2 responses to “Recycle Bin Empty

  1. Ironic Mom

    February 22, 2011 at 18:26

    This is fro your journal? Now that’s impressive. I can’t even manage full sentences in mind. And if you can find one, it’s certainly not coherent when placed next to the next one. Maybe that’s why I call it a notebook. Sigh…

     
    • chibichunsa

      February 22, 2011 at 19:22

      What you’ll probably find though is that when you string all those seemingly incoherent thoughts together from your notebook, it will spell out the answer to the universe. Keep writing, the fate of the meaning of our lives depends on you!

       

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