Inhale. White clouds when I exhale. Lungs filled up with smoke, one of the small pleasures of life. It’s going to kill me. It has too. These pleasures never go unpunished. Right now it’s something that keeps me steady, everything can wait while I have this cigarette. Nothing but the sole purpose of doing nothing, and it cannot be disturbed.
As the smoke evaporates my mind goes places, it scans my body. It becomes aware of the headache, the pain in my ribs and chest, and of the numbness in the left side of my face. My heart rate is increasing one beat at a time. It’s at the door, but somehow I still have power to keep it out. Maybe it will come crashing through it, or maybe it will go away. Good days and bad days, nothing more.
I go downstairs to the third floor and I melt in my chair. I stare at the screen on my laptop. So many things I would do, but I have energy for none. So I just stare. Scrolling down, hoping to reach an end. But the end is not in sight, it’s just a newsfeed that goes on and on. I mechanically check everything and reassure myself that all is fine, things are covered. Are they really? Probably not. I am not fully there, so I cannot be sure. I have to have trust. But I don’t. I just don’t care.
Someone comes to tell me something and to make a decision. I listen, but I really don’t. It’s a story I’ve heard many times before so I dismiss it. Did I do the same with the previous ones too? Can’t remember. I might have, or I might have done something else. Who cares?
I come in late and I leave early. Most of the time I am not even there, mentally mostly. It’s not exciting anymore, but it does have it’s moments. There are times when I have a vague remembrance of how it was before, pure excitement. There where times where a goal meant something, now it’s just an annoyance. Maybe things will change, or maybe not. Ever the dreamer, I still have hope.

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