It’s a slow day.
Slow days are like torture. They’re the opposite kind of torture to fast days.
Fast days bring exhaustion. Never having time to think, never pausing, missing lunch, trying to play catch up.
Slow days bring agonising gaps; gaps into which thoughts intrude. Bad thoughts. Self harming thoughts. Times when you dwell, dwell on the bad stuff, the failures, the mishaps and cock ups.
There’s no traffic today. My phones rung twice and I’ve answered two emails. This time yesterday I’d done two or three times that number. It’s frustrating, things I could be doing but I’m working and, you know, there might actually be something for me to do. Perhaps….
I’m tired. Been up since 4.00am. Slow days seem even longer when that happens. They drag on and on and on. It’s not as though I can make work up to keep me occupied.
Slow day. Dwelling on my inadequate nature, my failings. Frustrated at …so, so much!. External anger at the world, inner turmoil at my inability to deal with it all.
Life’s slipping away. That moment is one I’ll never live again. And that one. Slow days make me realise how much time I’ve wasted in the pursuit of…something. No idea what, that elusive happiness perhaps …even a job where I feel I’m doing some good.
It’s slow today, so slow.
Don’t wish your life away. Don’t wish it were tomorrow already. Wise words falling upon my deaf ears.
But every day is the same now and this world offers me no hope. There’s no mythical light at the end of the tunnel. If there was it would probably be a train coming to run me down.
It’s a slow day. All I see is darkness.
Maybe tomorrow then?.