1:53 PM: I am growing lax in evening journaling and tending to daily goals. There were a few goals left unmet in the past few days that would have been met had I bothered to glance at the list before calling it a night. High time to set that shit straight.
In spite of being mostly empty and dead inside, I’ve noticed just the faintest of whispers from my deamon as of late. They are very subtle. I have to listen closely and they are easy to ignore or pretend into non-existence. Perhaps that’s what makes them dangerous. Perhaps their strength is in their subtlety.
The timing is unexpected as I’ve certainly not been overworked these past two weeks. Perhaps that is part of the problem. It is more unsettling to be underworked, not because I am uncertain of how to fill my time, I definitely have not been idle, but because the financial repercussions of taking two vacations back to fucking back, at the most expensive time of the year, and having to re-build my caseload instead of riding the momentum of the busiest time of my work year, still hang overhead. I don’t feel resentful. At least on the surface. And I am grateful for the memories. However, spite, regret, nor gratitude balance the books.
12:41 AM: It is becoming increasingly apparent that I am enraged by gravity. If something falls off of a shelf, out of the closet, off the sink, I become irrationally and disproportionately angry. The majority of my most recent nearly-realized and actually-realized temper tantrums are immediately preceded by gravity deciding to fuck with me in some way.
