A workaholic is what I am. Even now, after just having been massively disappointed,
I only think about the freed-up time I can now spend on continuing my projects.
Is that optimism, or just pathetic?
I am stuck in some kind of wheel and I keep dragging myself forward. No pain no gain.
I am wallowing in self-pity and envy, giving thumbs and hearts to those that portray
themselves as winners, a sad face when socially called for.
I know it's not good for me. I acknowledge the algorithms. But I participate anyway.
Addicted to the stream of information that unsolicitedly forces its way into my life,
I feed myself on colourful images and loud typography, too afraid to miss out on them.