terminal velocity

moony's dove is my wake up call and it takes at least ten snoozes before i get out of bed. i don't want to leave for work but what choice do i have? if not for the financial aspect of this world, i would definitely return to my 12-hour sleep days. but i have to pay the bills and so i go.

open the glass door, greet everyone with a smile and a high-pitch "good morning!" sets the tone for the day; the smile hiding the misery and the greeting masking the angst. the cool job i had for the first couple of months turned out to be a drag, keeping acceleration at a minimum.

my back hurts and my head spins. my nine to five eventually fades and bye goes the bosses. one by one the employees start to go home. but i don't want to go home. i choose to watch tv shows on my laptop instead of going home. if only there's a sleeping bag and a decent shower i would stay 'til the next day. but there isn't and so i go.

walk the walk, open the steel gate, enter the house and stare at the leftovers. my dinner is set. stomach filled i head upstairs and go to bed. home is no fun either and repeating the vicious cycle is inevitable.

i'm still free falling, waiting to hit the ground, waiting for a lucky break.