Dear Diary,

The thing that depresses me a little bit is that I'm not a writer or an editor. I work in an internationally recognised publishing organisation with some world famous names. Fuck, I've even smoked cigars with some of them and drank whiskeys with them, talked Adorno with cultural writers. But I'm not their peer. I'm their majordomo.

There's a part of my soul that wanted to soar in life. The wings were clipped before I could even jump. The opportunities I felt weren't there, or when I applied to things I was overlooked.

My energy levels are all over the place lately. I'm normally not a morning person. When I get up and go to work, I'm in a mad rush. Yesterday at work I went in a mad mad rush and then I found myself at 5:57pm by the time I reached the finish line. I did all my rushing and I did a full day's work.

Back in the day I'd do a mad rush and I'd be done by 2pm with enough time for netflix and fucking around. Two caveats do come into play: I'm doing a major task that is due at the end of the month and I'm already done by 14 August. So, that is kind of like 2pm (in the scale of the month). The other thing is: whether I like it or not, whether I'm not an editor or not. I've got some serious responsibilities at work and I handle them with sensitivity, professionalism and complete things with excellence.

I have a lot of recurring dreams lately. I'm constantly worried about my parents health. After my friend nearly died in 2016 (I think I mentioned that, right?), my worries have gotten into overdrive. Without my parents, my life is...extremely isolated. I'm not in the best way with my other family and friends. I'm not ready to reach out to others yet.

I wanted to talk about two specific things. But I'll make another blog post...