Whaaaaat is this? Waves and waves and waves of this.
GUILT? Slowing me down again?
God, it gets boring being a recovering Catholic.
Treadmill it. Pound rubber soles against a stretch of rubber road until my knees go sore and rubbery in compensation.
Or curl up with it. Around unforgiving music and unrepentant self-indulgence. Sad little apostrophe.
Or flush it out with drink, break my promise, wake up numbly inside myself and wait it out.
Forgive me.
Is this what Monday feels like for people who work..?
It is sick sick sick sick sick.
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