I called in sick to work last night.
I rarely used sick leaves; only about a few times a year. I thought I was getting depressed or having a case of the blues —
— no, it was motherfucking influenza.
I thought about pushing myself and going to work even when I could barely stand up, but luckily my boyfriend talked me into staying home for the night. I did. I slept like a baby, only I was in pain.
I felt a little better earlier today. Thankfully I managed to finish my writing assignments. I'd been writing from 10:30 am to 3:30 pm. Five hours.
I'd been wishing that this all be over and that I wouldn't have homework anymore, because damn having side jobs apart from full time work.
Nevertheless, I'd been thinking about taking assignments from EPH again, to exercise writing and to increase my writer ranking. That's part of the plan to resign.
Just taking it one step at a time. Slowly. Carefully.
Regarding personal writing projects, I'm not really sure where the quest is going. I kind of just want to stay here and take life slowly.
Maybe I'll write an ebook. Start a blog for real. I don't know. There's many trajectories from here.