endless cycles

Why is it 1:21 AM? Why can't it just be tomorrow? Or better, why can't it be December 24th?

I am so tired, and I can never sleep. This cycle is endless.

Tomorrow, I will go to school and work. Today, at work, I stood in front of a fax machine for two and a half hours, faxing an invitation to a luncheon. That's right. If it weren't for my irreplaceable administrative skills, the joint would be in a shambles. If not me, then what other chimpanzee could they hire to press telephone numbers into a machine? They don't even need him to press start; they could just get one of those weighted birds to peck the start button every so often. Tomorrow, I fear might be much the same.

I want to go ride my horse, tomorrow, instead of work. But the whole point of work is to pay to keep to the horse. This is another endless cycle.

I feel like writing, lately. I really, really feel like writing. Like being a Writer (capital W!). And when I open up Word and stare at the blinking cursor, I feel like I'm staring blankly at myself, asking, "...well?" And nothing comes. Endless cycle.

1:27 AM. How awful.