Monday blues.

You lie on your bed with your phone spitting a song on your ear. You are perfectly aware you are thirty minutes behind your schedule. But thirty minutes doesn't make any difference at all. When you decided to put the day before to waste you knew you'd be 48 thirty minutes late. But for a while you wanted to forget the rush, though you know you'd have to speed up doubly today.

But pace is overrated for you. So you attempt to make some sense first before relearning the rush. You try to sound like talking about somebody else, but I guess it's obvious this is all you.

It pains to critic the own self, you can argue. It's hard to point out the wrong when your own finger points at you. But what's harder to swallow, really, is that nothing in all that you say is new. You're having a hard time telling yourself what she needs to hear because she's heard it all before.

So maybe you have the tendency to go in circles. Maybe you're taking so much time and so many pitfalls to learn. At least you know. Now move on.