She was january girl...No I'm not. Though I truly feel insane. I stare at the same pages on and on and can't make myself spill out the words. I can only define myself through negations: I'm not this, I'm not that either, but that's not quite the issue here. It ticks me off, the fact that I'm not free to leave. I use my dreams to escape for a little while, but then the phone rings (probably work again *sigh*) and reminds me that I'm not free even to die.
Sometimes I start packing my bags, check my pockets and my heart and stand in the doorway, determined to close it behind me forever (ok, forever is over-rated, I'd settle just for half a year or so). Then I remember that there's still reports to be finished and sent, and ongoing projects that won't sustain themselves. So I put back the bags, make myself a fresh cup of tea and start working again, whilst listening to some pagan folk to remind me of home, and lie to myself that next time I'll really do it. Go back home.
Nevermind, Tori Amos is never really good in these states. Switching playlists, then and off to work.
Oh, and I did make a promise (to Luca ^^) that I'll start posting soon one of my stories. Good thing I still dream => new material is now being shaped into suitable form *crosses fingers*