Problems are never absent, just deferred. I still don’t have a solution, just an abundance of unwanted calls. Hope is not a strategy; only a source of caffeinating.
Unfortunately, I can smell the pumpkin spice.
My anxiety continued to fluctuate. So, I spent some time disconnected. The nights have no serenity. My sleep remains interrupted.
But, I love a good quesadilla.
No news is never good. Thirty-days is too long for rejection.
Borrowed time is getting expensive. I often wonder what my soul is worth.
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