Repairing Worn Out Surfaces

If only I was a road. At the sign of seriously cracking up, attention would be lavished upon me, signs erected to keep people away from me until I was better and despite me being an integral item of daily life, there would be understanding that you can't repair a road whilst still driving on it - any more than you can change the engine of a plane whilst it is in flight.

Tough fucking luck then that I'm not a means of travel but just a mere wage slave. Today was another one of those "way-hay it's the pinball machine of emotions" type things where I seemed to lurch from moments of total clarity about what I need to do to (longer) moments of thinking "what's my name". I can't switch off thinking about how we're meant to do everything when there isn't enough time to do it all in and yet apparently the end of the world is scheduled to occur should a tick-in-the-box not be completed. At the same time an important bit of work needs full focus & attention but the full horror is only slowly dawning on those that originally thought it was a small piece of work that actually, it's fucking massive oh and hey, quite important at a higher level. There is no warm glow at being able to say "told you so" when the reality is that now highers are panicking, there is some sort of assumption that we can just magic up an extra day in the week to fit all this in. The fact that I've been working a regular 8-day working week in terms of hours over contractual hours is not comforting. And basically, I'm worn out.

Groundhog day rolls around again - I'm fed up of always fucking up because I can't handle my emotions.

I want to be a motorway!