These days, I couldn’t seem to get to bed without first having coffee and peanut butter sandwich, then watching at least two hours of Suits. Even when the day is long and my legs are dead, and I’ve already eaten some 500 calories (food-court pad thai, sometimes two Goya chocolate bars), when I get home I’d still make myself coffee (three-in-one Kopiko brown) and scour the kitchen for every last bit of leavened bread I could find. Then, after I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I’d let myself be sucked into the glass offices of Pearson Hardman. It’s become a habit, one which I’m not too keen to break just yet.
Maybe that’s what you do when unemployment is staring at you in the face. Or when your salary is withheld and you realize you’re basically living on your savings now. You feel very queasy, you start to lose motivation, and suddenly you could only find redemption when engrossing yourself in fictional litigation.
I recently had a dinner with a close friend who’s still in school and, listening to her stories, I couldn’t help but sorely miss the life I used to live–that she still lives. I don’t want to go all Thought-Catalog-y here and say I’m “lost” but okay, and that I’m living one day at a time. It isn’t okay, and I haven’t spent one minute not thinking about what I’m going to do next.
Maybe tonight I’ll make a second cup of coffee. I will hold sleep–and dreams–at bay. Maybe in the zone between grogginess and perpetual anxiety, I might come to an epiphany.