Expecting

It's... 23:50.

Ten minutes of today left and only 120 more of tomorrow to go until I'll probably be meeting up with J. for a casual spin and a yarn or two.

I'm off, I don't want to be, but it's a means to an end. I would like to go back soon but in truth I'm not sleeping properly (although I never really did)... (and by that I don't mean standing up inside my wardrobe) and the cut on my head is hurting more now and looks infected.

Damnit. Was there more I should have done... understandably I've re-run the incident over and over and over and over again now. Every time a different outcome. Sometimes better, to often it's worse. It's not playing on my mind, and I can willingly and happily talk about it. Yet still, I wonder, what if...

Decisions, decisions. I suppose this is human nature, I don't like it, or care for it much, but I'm stuck with it. Maybe this is the part of me where I am able to receed and write the poetry I do.

This entry was going to be about my expectations of tomorrow night. It's taken a different route now, but I'm still expectant.

The team I work with are a well rounded cluster of people and in my opinion are the best I could have had the misfortune to work with. However, undoubtedly there will be only a few brave soles who with gritted teeth and determined fixed stares, will venture onwards and (sort of) upwards to a club to celebrate the early hours of the next morning in the knowledge that we don't have to get up the next day.

It was good last time it'll be great again. 3 weeks feels too long inbetween.

That reminds me, I meant to buy a shirt at some point... all in good time