seventy-nine : stuck
if it weren’t for the heat he’d think he was in limbo. he sleeps. he wakes. he eats. he works. the day disappears, then the night. but time drags. weeks race by, then time stands still. everywhere he looks are conflicting signs. some point up, some down. each claim to be the right way. the truth. nothing makes sense anymore.
i don’t know what to say about this. i still can’t focus. i just realised it was nearly midnight and i hadn’t posted anything yet. i guess i’m feeling a bit stuck. that probably explains this.
