If you think that I would let the year pass by without dropping a word or few here, you are probably right. Unless this time, I am able to dedicate my full concentration into actually finish writing here without being distracted within the next hour, because after that I will need to sleep - work, or rather the preparation for it, starts in eight hours. If you don't really think much about me, I probably deserved it.
In contrast to my previous three ambitious attempts to summarize my entire year into a mini novel, I will try to make this short and quick. Because if it did not work the previous times, it wouldn't work now either. Also because I need to sleep. This will probably be the last sleep of the year hence it's important I that I do it right. I do not even know where I will be when everyone else counts down to the new year. I am definitely not into that sort of thing but I just find it very sad that when someone somewhere in the future asks me where did I spend my last day of 2017, telling them 'I don't know' would actually be an accurate answer. In shock and disbelief, they will ask me the same question ten more times, to which every time I will answer, 'I don't know'. Thinking that I'm a lying little prick (they would have gotten two thirds of it right), they will have no choice but to buy a polygraph and hook me onto the machine, ensuring that I am not under the influence of any alcohol or McDonald's or hairspray, and ask me the same question one last time. I will answer, 'I don't know', and they will discover the saddest truth of their life. They had spent their money on a stupid polygraph which could have been used to buy me McDonald's gift voucher as a consolation to me for not knowing where I was during new year's eve.
I still worship McDonald's. It remains the fastest and easiest way to make me happy, and most of the time I really need to be happy. 52 is my rough estimate for the amount of times I've stepped into a McDonald's this year, although something tells me that the actual number may be higher than that. Another thing that makes me happy is sleeping, which I am going to do very soon and I cannot wait for it to happen. Sleeping is very tricky though, it really has to be the right amount. More often that not I overdo it and feel very lousy after, which would make me resort to my other source of happiness. This is also why I think 52 may not be very accurate after all. There will also be times where this happy activity just refuse to take place, and that's when angry comes in. But today I'm not going to talk about that because I need to sleep real soon.
While I try to remain low, I am not hiding anything. The truth is, I am just tired all the time. Tired from work, tired of work, tired from, and tired of not working. I really am tired all the time, and I don't think there's a proper solution for it. It's not like I can sleep whenever and wherever I want. Like most of the things in life, it's just a matter of getting used to. It's been a year and a half since I've been employed and contrary to popular belief, no, my soul has not been discovered yet. If anything it's getting further and further away. I feel really lost and I hope you read past this sentence as if it's not the entire point of my writing. Ha. I also feel detached from people but I am okay with it. Most of the time now I like to be left alone, because I'm already stretching my quota seeing three hundred faces a day. It really takes a toll on your health, spiritual and mental. If things were up to me I'd very much like to see only few specific faces a day which includes my dog's. At this point in life I can positively conclude that not more than twenty people will attend my funeral, should there be one someday. And that's not even the sad part. The sad part is, if more than twenty people attends it, I would get angry. I would really get angry while being busy rotting six feet under. Which is exactly how I pass my time these days, really, only I'm many storeys above.
If you have made it this far into my writing, I guess it's only appropriate that I tell you more things you can live without knowing. Gleba is a real word, the left side of a ship is called port, the right side of a ship is called starboard, and I have been co-habitating with two strangers for as long as I've been in the work force. Sometimes (twice a day) I wonder whether I'm a good tenant, since all I do is sleep and put things back where they belong after use. They call me Jess because that's how I introduce myself to people I may not want to commit a proper human relationship with and now I am stuck with Jess for the rest of my time in the household. I don't know how to go back from Jess to Jess Minn. You don't just tell people to not call you something and call you something instead. 'Hey, from today onwards, please call me this, not that.' Unless you're a caterpillar. One day you're a caterpillar, and then one day you're a butterfly. I know there's some cycle in between but I am too lazy to google it. The point is, I'm not a caterpillar. I can't just tell people to call me something else. But I think I can live with it. They are probably not going to attend my imaginary funeral.
If the person in paragraph two must really know, I spent the eve of new year's eve in London, and on that night, I wrote about the person in paragraph two here in paragraph two. I will also be in London on the morning of new year's eve, until 0910 GMT. If I am serious about this I could find out about the flight route on Flightradar or something but I don't really care. All I care about now is my imminent sleep. When I touch the ground again on new year's day morning and have access to onions and bacons and what not, I will attempt to make a good pot of carbonara, despite my lack of practical experience in the kitchen for the past year. And that is what I have planned for the new year.
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