. heartbreak hotel .

it feels like an eternity since i last wanted to write anything down in a structured way. my notebooks are in complete disarray—just piles of tasks pushed from one day to the next, and one week to the next, like little boats tossed about in a storm.

i’ve been working a lot, and at hours incompatible with any sort of interaction. it’s a new job, and i accepted all kinds of shifts because i wanted to learn as much as possible in the shortest time, but we know the kind of precedent that “accepting everything” sets. i put myself out there as this incredibly available person, i stretch my own limits thin, and then invariably regret it. i wonder where my freedom has gone—the freedom of not having to be known, or even noticed.

but that only comes later. for now, the novelty is still distracting me: night shifts, with their boredom, their dramas, and their unpredictability. my job is to deliver all of us safe and sound to the first light of dawn, surviving the hours that slowly tick by. 138 residents and myself, more or less fighting, more or less giving ourselves over to the unknown.