This is the worst it’s been. Tonight I have crawled away to my bedroom to begin hibernation. My body has fallen ill landing me a scapegoat from false excuses. I have lost sight of optimism and given into that old feeling that stalks me like an estranged lover. This is hard. I don’t think that I will be where I’m supposed to be tomorrow. It is safe to say that I no longer care about saving bridges and watching them burn to the ground would be rather pleasing. I no longer care about pay checks. For a year I have stayed too long in this mind numbing sweat shop torturing my spirit and contaminating my soul. Monday will be another sick day.
November 7, 1999