03122022

The start of December has come and passed in an unseemly fit of exhaustion, spurned in equal parts by procrastination and insomnia alike. First it was the UI build, which I still haven’t finished in its entirety; and then some business about creating promotional holidays cards, which I did finish, although possibly not on time. I was awake for nearly three days straight. By the end of this weekend, I will have to have written and submitted a fully realised proposal for an apparently upcoming demo, as well as a comprehensive update to the plot document describing the revisions I’ve made over the past several months.

For once, it feels like things are picking up. To some degree, I actually welcome it. I’ve been having terrible dreams nearly every night for an entire month now, nearly all of them unified in (and equally so, by) their subject. I’ve barely gone out or seen anyone since I left the station that evening, and the thought of being anywhere near the city fills me with nauseating dread. But the past several days have been so thoroughly exhausting that I’ve found that the sheer pressure of each moment is almost nearly enough, in rhythm, to eclipse the otherwise-unignorable pangs of loneliness and embittered grief that tear and crash through me like waves every other moment. 

It’s a diabolical trade-off, to be certain; but at this point, it’s not like things were going to really get better as they were, and just as certainly, I’ve discovered now all too well, I should no longer be so trusting of the kinds of happiness which come from others. At least at the end of this period of trials, I’ll have a game to sell and, more importantly, a contract satisfied.