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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