This is a post that probably no one will read, and that's a good thing.
Right now, it's 2:27 a.m. and I'm too tired to go to sleep.
That's the way it is lately. I'm too tired to do all of the things that lead up to sleep.
Cleaning up, taking the garbage out, taking my insulin, the list goes on...
So, what do I do instead?
I write, of course. I write stories that hardly anyone reads, and that are probably incredibly stupid because in addition to being a sucky writer, it's also 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. in the morning and I'm writing with either incredibly high or incredibly low blood sugar.
Also, there's COVID. Just had it, still feel like it's lingering.
And there's this new job I have, where even though I was literally delirious with a fever I didn't have any sick days, so I couldn't take any days off from work. So, I wrote news articles (none of which probably made any sense) from home while trying not to die from coughing and from freezing cold even though my apartment was like 100 degrees.
There are other problems too, which are too depressing to recount.
Essentially, 2022 has been another horrible year and I have a feeling 2023 will be even worse.
I wish I could jump into the books I read and write and live there for a while. In books, genuine kindness and love exist alongside happily ever afters. That's why I spend so much time writing (and reading). It's nice to be in a pleasant world, even if it's fictional and even if I can only be there for a few hours a day.
Well, guess I should bite the bullet and take the garbage out now.