going down without a fight

and suddenly the days start earlier and are long, and upon returning home it's the most i can do to stay awake. even though it is summer the days seem curiously grey, and the people blurring past the window of the bus look unhappy. the people on the bus don't talk to each other, headphones and papers, sleep crusts the corners of their eyes, mouths downturned, if it's been raining then why is it so fucking warm?, uncomfortable clothes, eye-strain, wrist-strain, the air conditioner blowing on just one part of my neck.

the magic is gone, there's no sparkle. it's curiously easy to get sucked into this routine and not put up any resistance. avoiding smalltalk with the others in the office, no, I don't care about your new phone deal, please just leave me alone to get on with this. wordless days, wordless nights, nobody calls, days and nights fly by my window like time-lapse photography, there's only a label to differentiate one day from another, at the weekend it's hard to get out of bed, actually, why bother?