Work turned out to be very full of events. Mistakes, near deaths, crazy shit, that boss; and all with a new guy under my wing. I was pretty hyper by the end of the shift. Made me feel fuckin’ alive for once.
During the shift, in between near human roadkill and new rules, I wrote. I wrote a lot. i wrote pages and I wrote single lines.
I like to write. I’m a writer.
But, I also like feeling as alive as I did during those last few hours. I was feeling manic before, but then it became energy. Productive energy. Something I can direct when I feel it.
Something that can help me in the long run.