As my head continues to pound I must finally admit to myself that I am addicted to caffeine. Coffee, O Coffee, why must I hate you yet love you so? Like a crack addict I break down and feed the monster.
I find myself falling into a bleakness in these darkest, grayest months of winter. I wake up and leave for work before the sun has risen and I get out and drive home once the sun has set. Working in the black hole of this clinic filled with negative energy and people who just don't care, and then leaving the hospital to the gaunt and hopeless torn-down ghetto of Minneapolis covered in a thin layer of ash-colored snow.
My world is a lot of gray. Gray is the world when I get up. Gray is the world when I lay down. Gray is even the color of my dreams when I dream them at night.
I want to love my job. I want to love what I do. I want to wake up every morning and look forward to getting something accomplished. Doing something that is meaningful, something that just might change the world even just a little.
In the bleakness of winter it seems like I make no mark and tomorrow is the same as the uselessness of today.