A month ago, I was indoors for detrimentally lengthy periods of time inhaling Pot Noodle, drinking Fosters and watching Green Wing/West Wing interchangeably. Presently, I am balancing a part-time editorial internship with an actual (paid) part-time job whilst constantly searching Essex high and low for a new property to reside in and writing for two other online publications. Ew. I'm astonished with myself, For most of you, something along the lines of these daily toils might actually be what you call life, but for me it's a whole new fucking step. I finally know what's it's like to feel...wait for it - 'busy' and I get that luscious sense of fatigue that you might do after a productive day's work. Not the type of fatigue that results from watching about four films into the small hours of the night, until the early birds come a-tweeting and scare the shite out of you.
On the contrary, despite the title of this post, punching the keys of my laptop ardently at peak time on a Friday night might reveal I don't have a life after all. But actually, if you've chosen to read any ponderings emanated from the likes of me...well I guess we're on the same boat.
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