Head down.

When did this happen to me?

I used to play more. I used to draw and write and give reign to my imagination. My jobs were fun and I set my own hours. I could stay up late and get up late and do what I wanted. Sure I seemed to work a lot and I was always broke and maybe I'm wrong but it feels like I used to be happier. 

Now I'm the kind of person who hates Sunday nights. I hate them for two reasons: firstly it's the end of the weekend. That period of time where I feel like I can be me again. That one night and two days of endless possibilities. Where I can draw and write and bring all the ideas that get backed up in my brain during the working week to life and go on all those fun adventures that have occurred to me in the week. Although, in actuality, it's that time where I'm knackered and sluggish and just about manage to do the chores and make those phone calls I needed to and do those favours I promised and make a token gesture towards doing something creative while lamenting the fact I am so broke I can't go off on an adventure. I don't even hate Sunday nights for  being the end of my free time. I hate them because it's the time I inevitably lie awake cursing myself for having done nothing to further myself. 

Secondly, I know that tomorrow, I get to go back to work and do that job where I talk to children about how the big company I work for makes billions of pounds that I will never see and how some people in it use some of that money to do worthwhile stuff that I will never be a part of. My part is to turn up, punch in and earn just enough money to ensure I can sustain myself well enough to turn up and do the same tomorrow.  At the same time, I will be utterly frustrated by a veritable treasure trove of creative ideas, plans, and designs that I can't act on at the time. So I put the ones I can remember at the end of the day off until the weekend.

And I don't know how to break this cycle. 

Until I die. 

And so what if I do?

And so what if I don't?

Either way, my grave will be the same size. 

This is not me. This is not me. This is not me. This is not me. This is not me. This is not me! THIS IS NOT ME!