Friday, April 15, 2016

Face Pushed Up Against the Envelope


Yes, friends, the limit has been reached.

My face is pressed against the edges of what I can do, like it would be against a plate-glass door with a cop bearing down on me, putting on handcuffs.

That's what it feels like too, I might add.

This envelope is my work life.

I can't do it anymore. I have cracked, broken, gone off the deep end, surrendered. I am one step from the raving homeless guy snorting sugar in front of the convenience store.

Seriously.

So, if you try to contact me, email me, or find me in my office, I won't be there. I have fallen through the crack, moved on, switched orbits, gone bonkers.

Sorry for any inconvenience.

Best --

et

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