It took me too long to think of this 

I’m unsure what happened, but I have nearly half my lunch break left to do nothing with. I’m reading EM Forster so beginning a chapter now would be unwise. 

I realized there was a word press app, and I could post from my phone, last week. Which is good because I find I can’t write on here and on my own work. I only have the time between arriving home from work and starting dinner, however long that is. Sometimes it’s four hours sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. Again, I feel like I would never ever make the time to write if I had kids. I barely do it now. Well I do but it’s low priority. It has to be.

There’s a joy I feel regarding repetition and routine that I find most are disgusted by. But there are worse things than tedium and boredom, when you know them well you kind of lose that frame of reference. The good nights when I was a kid were the quiet ones. If you can imagine, I despise the people who have a tv or radio on for “background noise.” I lived with a roommate who HAD to fall asleep to the TV. To me that’s a telltale sign someone has issues or deficiencies they’re not addressing. But I understand I’m oddly opinionated.

It’s hard to start a post and not somehow digress into upsetting topics. But it would be unwise to do so right now.  I get angry enough sometimes just thinking about certain things at work. It’s nice to be distracted by my own thoughts. Which is really all I’ve ever needed, a thought distraction. It can be a dark unpleasant place, inside some minds. You can claim you know how to change but…well….does that ever change? Besides destroying it with substances, what else can we really do about the memories that haunt us?

The answer is help others, I know. And I agree. I’m like 6 steps away from that. Alas, no spare time, like I said.

~Cassie 

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