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2:38 a.m.

Published on May 27, 2025
It's 2:38 a.m. and I'm sitting in the dark waiting for the pill of Paracetamol to kick in. I might as well use the time productively.

It seems I've caught a cold. It's corona or it isn't because noone (including the pharmacy-bought test) can tell. I don't have a fever but the pressure behind the eyes and the slowly building tightness in the chest clearly goes beyond the cold. Splendid.

I can't go to bed because like an old carburetor I'm immediatelly starting to puff and sputter — I do even sound like one. I don't even care about cars and this similarity is the first thing that comes to my mind.

The pill seems to be kicking in, slowly. I hope it stops whatever is happening because after all: I'd like to rest. How ironic that sounds to me right now because lately I feel like I must be alert at all times. It's not anxiety, it's just that nagging feeling that I need to be on top of things. I need to take care of myself. I need to take care of home. I need to be productive as an entrepreneur, businessman, part of society, and a person. It's exhausting.

I'd like to feel at peace again. And it's not just being melodramatic because I am (actually) happy and calm. I am just restless. 

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