The list is both a blessing and a curse. It is taped to the wall above my desk. The paper it is printed on is slightly heavier, commanding attention from the reader; the official letterhead reflects when held up to light, and I can trace the slightly raised design of the seal with my fingers.
The list seems to have had the effect of amplifying all emotions. On good days, a quick glance at the list makes me smile and conjures feelings of relief, satisfaction, and - dare I say it? - accomplishment. On bad days, just the thought of it provokes more stress, anxiety, and disappointment. I sit in the early hours of the morning, hunched over and staring at incomprehensible symbols and blocks of text. In the harsh, artificial light the text and numbers begin to blend together, and suddenly I'm tired, my head hurts, but all that doesn't matter because I can't see through the oncoming flood of tears.
I've got to stay on the list. I've got to stay on the list. I've got to.
So I push on.
How can something so good spawn so much frustration?
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What I've Been Listening To:
Headlights - Some Racing, Some Stopping (Whole Album); but favorite songs: Get Your Head Around It, Cherry Tulips, January
Stars - Nightsongs album (but especially My Radio, both mixes)
Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack