Ire

The hub-bub of voices stings at this stage. Up periscope for a second, poking my head out over my desk to stare at the expanse of office, bodies, calls, limbs and conversations. I cant pick out any individual words over the turmoil and noise anymore, I've stopped listening. Far far away, a million miles away and less than a tenth of a millimetre from my ear some voice is explaining some problem I dont care about and wont fix, can't in fact fix. My main compulsions are sleep, or bashing my forehead so hard off the keyboard that I loosen buttons and they get wedged onto my face, spelling out some word I can't see. Waiting and working like this feels like purgatory sometimes. It takes me a million miles away from home, from where I want to be.Sometimes, Its so hard to go and do this everyday and then return home and be productive in any way. Sometimes, I nearly sprint away, because Im so close to being free that it doesn't matter, I'll just fucking run home and have fun. But right now I finish work and Im still so far away from where I want to be that it doesnt fucking matter anyway. Work is fine, until anything at all gets in the way of the time when you're supposed to be free and unsober, and when you mix these tiny little insignificant snags, they really fuck your day up. When you are stuck in a cycle of stuff repeatedly fucking your day up you get pissed off. When you stay pissed off for long enough eventually people stop caring that you're pissed off. Why are you pissed off? Cos you're always pissed off. And all because of tiny things jumping up and down on the big things making them suck more. And all for the want of a hash shoe nail.