I put off writing again tonight until it’s all that stands between me and my bed.

Tonight I just don’t care. I’m anxious and scared and a little numb around the edges. And I just don’t care. Does any of this actually matter? This “work” that I’m doing, this “process” that I’m in, what if it’s all just bullshit? What if it’s just a way to make me feel better about the fact that I’m unhappy and not really doing much of anything?

Fuck. I don’t care. I just don’t care.

I have a job interview in the morning. I don’t want to go back to work. Not now. I want a time out. I want to hit the pause button. I want to get in my car and leave for a while.  Just take myself on the road for a bit. So I can have just a little more time to be with myself before I have to start coloring in the details of my future.

I’m mad that I can’t do what I want. I’m mad that I have to play by someone else’s rules.

And underneath all that, I’m probably just really, really scared because I have no idea what’s coming or where I’m headed. I’m scared. About having to get a new job and finding a new place to live. I’m scared about starting over. I’m scared that in the end, I’ll be just as unhappy living someplace else as I’ve been within these walls.

The truth is, I care a lot. So much so that all I want to do right now is go to bed, close my eyes, and in the time until I fall asleep, pretend like I don’t care at all.