I’ve been working long nights these last few weeks. Once I came home as the sky was lightening. By the time I was finished eating dinner and getting into bed the sun was already up. I couldn’t do it—I was back at work hours later on no sleep. It’s too loud to sleep here at night let alone in the day.
This amount of work is temporary. I am doing what I need to do to get what I want done. I told myself I didn’t care what I had to do, I was going to do it. If it means little to no sleep until the end of the month, I’ll do it. If it means hauling each box and piece of furniture to where it needs to be myself, I’ll do it. I will do whatever it takes. I’m back.
The moon is keeping me company through it all. From my new vantage point in my apartment it will swing around the buildings and shine in while I work on packing or attempting to write. My hands hurt from work. It’s tough to type, but I do. My head hurts from building skids in my mind. I can’t find my words, and I dream of irregular shapes I form into cubes and then wrap with clear plastic. I walk around inside transport trucks and pretend to unload them. I think in reverse picturing how each order will attempt to rip itself apart as the deliveries are made.
But my hard work is paying off. I’ve been promoted at work—I’m now a pack leader.
Like I said—I’m back.