Unwinding means remembering to eat breakfast at 4 p.m.
I had forgotten myself again.
For two weeks, all the world was merely a stream of butchered consciousness, to borrow a phrase from a beloved friend. Waking, working, sleeping. Lather, rinse, repeat. The real world is a merciless enemy. And I could not fight against it at the time.
But now I think I’m realigned. Finding balance is such a tedious feat. I operate off-kilter most of the time.
On and off, on and off, I flicker like a dying light bulb. Or like Sylvia’s fever.