At first I was counting down the years till the end of my working contract, then I began counting down the months of the year, then I started taking it week by week and now I live almost day to day, counting away the blocks on my timetable whilst almost looking forward to the weekend. Still a part of me is excited for the coming holiday.

But the years are too long, it’s painful to look that far. And when I shorten it I can’t find a sweet spot either. I think and think then realize that more than my job, I’m counting the days to the end of my life.

There’s nothing I look forward to and this world is a strange place.

The one solace in my death is that it doesn’t necessarily have to take months or years; it could happen any day.


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