Friday

It's quiet here.
The world is on pause.
I can see it from my window, if I want.
It's still and empty.

The bathroom fan makes a constant hiss.
It's distracting and irritating but perfect white noise.

The questions I get asked are much more sensible than usual:
Do I have any children, any pets? Did I leave the gas on? How long is my hair? Do I get violent when I'm angry?

I make my bed, even though it's so absurdly redundant.

The one bit of order I can in still on my world.
The extent of my ability to interact with the world.

It's quiet and still here, and the table is perfectly designed with a small, cramped dark space underneath it.

When the world unpauses, it'll will run in fast forward to catch up.
But the world I can see for now is quiet, and still, and empty.

Thursday

My hands are black.
I'm suicidal.
I'm suicidal and I've been a stuck at work, on my own for 22hours.
I have idea what I'm doing.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing
My eyes and fussy and spasming from fatigue, it takes me 5 attempts to write each sentence as my eyes see the wrong letters
I worked 92h in 5 days.  I've worked 140h since I last had a full day off.
There's no backup, no plan B, no alternative option.  It's me or nothig.
Which would be nice.  If I wasn't suicidal.  If I'd slept.  If I got home before 9.30/10pm.  If I didn't have to get up at 6am to get in early.  If I could actually cry when I'm drowing but seem incapable of showing it.  It'd be nice then.
I need to not be.  I need to be where the rest of reality isn't.

I could go be a different person.  He gets better healthcare anyway.