running for zero

Another hundred-hour week. I'm so fucking tired I woke up crying today.

I can see the finish line from here, just out of my reach. A few more days and the deadline scramble is over, a couple of weeks and the catch-up mountains will be back down to molehills, a couple of months and I can actually relax -- sweet sweet vacation. Have a couple of beers. Hell, have a whole lot of beers. Sleep in. Clear the stacks of files and receipts and dustbunnies and clean my filthy house.

If I can remember how to relax. I've gotten to the point where I try to take breaks and I end up pacing through the house. I can't remember the last time I mediated. A year? Two?

My skin is breaking open again. I'm leaving tiny drops of blood behind me every where I go. The places where I am splitting open has moved up my feet and onto my hands.

When it reaches my head the dragon will burst out and devour everything in my way.