It’s the end of my last course, for a moment. Tomorrow, Sunday, will be the last day of school till the 18th of March. I hadn’t noticed until earlier this afternoon. Oddly, the excitement I thought would be there, well, it isn’t. I enjoy the routines and the planned flow of work set and lined to the end. I don’t know, maybe I need it. Perhaps I could take the opportunity, depending on other circumstances, to make possible my writing, the art, and drop Stuck Pt. 2. Maybe make the IG account a business one too. It’s not like I use it except to drop art.
It’s a thought, it usually is anyway, but then I let myself and the worries within grab hold and I freeze. I may maintain a motion, especially if it’s a normal routine I carry on through a weekday, like dinner, the dogs, dishes, laundry, but what’s in my mind is usually my worst enemy. The inkling of trouble, the small notion of negative tones, a sulking mannerism seen and I’m reeling. Especially within because the chances, the options, and the prospects, are so much darker, bleak, and vile.
The imagination, though I appreciate it, I fear the eagerness at times that catapults my heart and mind throwing them in an emerald tornado of fret and worry that takes so long to trod through.
Til tomorrow, Monday morning late Sunday night, who knows.
C’est la vie
Good night and Good morning, good morning and good night.
Nosce Te Ipsum
Dream Dark Stories 