"Friend to friend," I say, "I think I'm going a little crazy." I keep on waking up at 4:15AM, 5:30AM, 4:30AM.
"Too much ambition. Too much on your mind."
He's been waking up at 8AM, which, for a 25-year-old designer, is basically like waking up at 4AM. We're shouldering a lot. We keep pushing like we want to crush our bones for some weird, sordid, amorphous goal to prove that we are able. No, more than able, but brilliant, unique. I wanted to use the flywheel as a metaphor for Monday's big meeting, but instead I find it more appropriate for my life.
That is, I finally realize that by coming here, I've plugged certain variables that set certain things in motion, leading me to a life running on track toward some inevitable purpose. I have no control work or relationship-wise. Is this fate or mindful circumstantial, decision-making? So here I am, a flywheel spinning that I'm trying to keep up with. Friends call me workaholic in a wry, kind of sad way that I have a hard time believing still. Who knows, maybe I am a wry, sad little thing.
The THING is, the THING is, here's what I believe in. I believe in Sasha Grey. I believe that whatever we do, we might as well give it 120%. Whether it's fucking or working. That's what I believe in. Sure, one day I might collapse from exhaustion, and maybe lose a friendship or two from too much work. In fact, I have no idea how dating someone who is busier than me can be sustainable for either of us (except that it's more sustainable than dating someone who is A LOT LESS BUSY).
So that's that. Let the wheels turn.
For realz though, this is my last year here. It'll be me & R's legacy. Then WE OUT, son. WE OUT.