trudging

I didn't get my roti prata in the end. And I've been taking cabs to and from office, but I can't claim the fares. Wretched and depressed really describes my mood now.

This begs the question: At which point will one finally tip over and snap? I guess despite all the awfulness, I still possess that whatever minuscle capacity to keep going. Or perhaps the trudging survival is simply driven by a lack of options, and awareness of that lack of choice. I am yearning for a flicker of hope to burst into an engulfing flame. It wouldn't hurt if it burns a lot of other things along the way as well.

Time to retire to bed. And once again, I shall strive to have my roti prata tomorrow in a few hours.