10 hours...9... 8... tickling away my freedom. It's not right. The first days did feel somewhat lonely, what with my perpetual paranoia, it still is somewhat creepy at night, but... I put my head in my hands as it dawns upon me/ no more running around the flat after midnight, /no going to bed at 6 am, sipping at my beer watching a dorama/no smoking in front of the screen, well, just about everywhere actually. You get used to good things too fast, I guess. It's the miserable times that seem to last forever. I don't miss anything, anyone. Suppose I should, but I don't. I wouldn't mind living like this for another month, or even...
Cleaning up/ no ashes on the windowsill?/ no bottles under the table? All done, then. The party's over.