Not.

There is procrastination. There is escapism. There is laziness. I know all about them too, not to worry.

There is that.

And then there is the fucking pain in your whole bone structure that will blind you if you open your eyes and therefore you just have to, you just have to keep sleeping.

There is that switch you had to flick, you were forced to flick it, really, as otherwise you'd have been swallowed, digested and turned to earth by the crushing weight of responsibility, so now you're just floating free in the zero gravity cell you created.

And then there is. Well. Not. Just nothing. The void, the silence, the numb. Just no reaction. Just staying still. Not even ignoring, because just: not. Not doing. Not being. Not. Simple. The empty set. Effortless. A bypass. A solution. A free round. Just one more.

There is that.

And am I waiting for the day when, when someone knocks, I'm not forced to create just another door to close? Wondering what opening them all one day, one by one, will feel like?

There is that too. Perhaps.