I went to the gym today for the first time this week and I ran. That’s basically all I do there, I get on the treadmill and run, do squats as well sometimes. I always forget the sense of relief that comes with finishing something. A run, a review, a workday, a play. My life is full of unfinished things that I’m not really even conscious of. It’s nice to get things done sometimes.
I haven’t written at all this week. I’m trash, I know. I got that review of Beast published but that was a product of sheer laziness over the four days the document sat gathering dust on my desktop. It’s not like I’ve even been doing anything near productive with my time. I haven’t been liking myself too much, been being unhealthy, listening to music that helps me feel sorry for myself, getting pissed and reading Shakespeare monologues at midnight.