I am busy. Crazy, ridiculously busy. I would like to say that I didn’t mean my life to be like this but I did. I anticipated this, I planned it this way – and now I am reaping exactly what I sowed, both the sweet and disastrous.
It’s been outstandingly rewarding – like real life, full on instant gratification. I have never felt more noticeable and connected to the university than I do now. I can’t walk a few metres without recognising someone and in a university as big as mine it’s insane to feel so seen. Even in school I didn’t feel as visible as I suddenly am. This year I know people and they’re all so good.
Also every bit of my time is suddenly needed for something. I spend literal hours emailing, I am constantly sending and receiving and sorting pieces of mail into relevant folders. I have so many places to be and weird responsibilities. I came home from an eight-hour shift and had to spend an hour editing a spread sheet? I have to go see some government departments about money and loans? My biggest break was my lecture? I have too many work shifts, its everyone’s birthday. There is obligation after obligation and I don’t have time to slow down.
But it gives me a purpose and I guess I really believe that good work returns rewards. Everything good that happens to me these days I deserve because I am working so hard for them. But then I guess the flipside is I can’t handle anything less than perfect. I kind of get home and I know I am exhausted but instead of sleepy I just feel tense and fizzing with so much flighty energy. Like I get home and I don’t want to go to bed: I want to run a marathon or yell at my landlord or just to cry to be honest with you. I mainly want to call my mum and cry.
I am busy. I sleep deeply and never for long enough, I set my alarm three hours earlier than I used to, I have a constant tickling in the back of my throat because my body isn’t used to exhaustion and stress the way it used to be. Stress is my vice I think. I revel in it, I openly embrace it and yet I know it kills me. I see in my skin and the bags under my eyes and the way I feel less together that it kills me.
But I was used to it once and I’ll get used to it again and I know I’ll survive it. Because the most joyful and disgusting part of being this busy is that it is all I am. I am busy and so I am almost nothing else and its addicting as hell.
I am not a good student, a good friend or a good person. I do not have time for the things or the people that make me happy. I haven’t been to the gym or written in my diary or spent a night with my flat in ages. I haven’t sent any postcards or met my favourite people for coffee. I am already behind on law (though this is inevitable because contract law is not aN ENGAGING SUBJECT).
But I don’t have time to be a bad person either and I certainly don’t have time to wallow. Like things that started sucking ages ago – like start of summer ages ago – are still a stupidly big part of my life and it is shit. It’s a mix of bad luck and a bad reactions and people who are bad for each other and it makes you feel like rubbish but its bearable because I’m busy. I have people relying on me – I have to get out of bed and I have to keep working my ass off and I have to make them proud. And yeah sometimes it doesn’t work, I started inexplicably crying at work the other day which was so ridiculous, but also its better than being something I don’t want to be.
I can handle being busy but I don’t think I can handle the alternative.
But I have to say sorry for the millionth time because I am struggling enough keeping up with my own world and so I am definitely struggling hard to keep up with you.
I feel like this post is weirdly personal, but that’s me right? Also censorship is stupid, everyone is human and I hope I am busy for a really long time – I just also kinda hope it gets a bit easier to handle.