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Staring Forward
Not sure how many false starts I need before I give up the ghost today. It has been a strange day, every moment on the cusp of something happening. Endlessly frustrating in that potential never tips over into actual. I feel like I have been dreaming since midmorning; not the lush, rich worlds of my daydreams or the vivid, biochemically woven dreams of my night, but the awful space in between. The dreams that feel like the waking world, offset by a bleary-eyed filter or a slightly-too-warm blanket of detachment.

I'm trying to rouse myself out of this state, but the sun is going down. I'm not at my best once the sun goes down. Never thought I would call myself a morning person, but in dawn's crisp light, I can be productive. I can DO. When the night curtain falls, it seems like everything is coming to a close, and it's best not to begin new endeavors. So despite having hours left before I'll succumb to my bed, I feel like I've lost the most vital time of the day, and have accomplished nothing.

It is most distasteful. And yet I do not seem to learn.