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.


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 --


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