End of play, ETA, all these words I hate to say.

The problem with work is that as with most, I don’t want to be doing it but it takes up most of my life. That and sleeping, which seems sort of pointless because dreams are often nightmares but more importantly make absolutely no sense. Why did she become an entirely different he? Where on earth did that come from? For instance.
Whenever I get home it is just an exercise in the uneasy (often queasy) wasting of time. No focus, no idea how to use it constructively. Worrying and wishing for something better, but seeing nothing bright on the horizon.

I read up on whale sharks today. Not quite as bad as all that and I think the odds are stacked against me getting eaten by one.

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