Not So Chill
Alexander Gordon Jahans
It’s a funny old thing productivity, you can spend weeks, months even, at the top of your game. You can write and walk every day. You can diet and not feel it. Then one day it just... Stops. Your whole life just stalls.
I stalled today. I had to have a nap and then my brain just refused to kick into gear and I was overtaken by hunger. Hunger and lust. Oh... I have had so many fantasies today about Amy Hurst seducing then eating gorgeous women. My body is crying out for bacon and chicken. I feel like Withnail. I must have something’s flesh. I literally just ate some ham out of the packet because it was going off today and now I’m sat here, drinking diet coke, after managing to write a description of hell for a thing.
I am not good today. I am hunger and lust and utter fucking apathy. I just do not fucking care if I die. I just want the pain to end.
You know Theresa May just paid out a billion pounds to get the DUP to cooperate so she can stay in power? The conservative government just restarted the Troubles out of a desperate attempt to keep their party in power. Meanwhile old white men are commits of terrorism because they’re scared of Muslims.
The world is mad. The world is fucked. I know I must keep going. I want to keep going. I want to finish this book apart from anything else. And maybe, someday, perhaps, we might actually sell this fucking house and end the purgatory of my existence. I just - So tired, such pain and I just - I just find it hard to give a fuck today.