It’s 3.30 am. I went to bed a couple of hours ago. I listened to classical music on the radio for an hour, till it shut off by itself, then listened to my heart beat. Then I got up and made some chamomile.
I have an interview tomorrow, and I’m dreading it because I always thought of this company as my last resort. If it turns out to be like the last one, then I don’t know how long it will take before another opportunity comes along.
I can feel the threads of the safety net unravelling. More than ever before, I feel exposed to danger, like the blind cat hiding in the courtyard next door.
I’ve set my alarm for 7.30. I’ll probably show up for the interview with swollen bloodshot eyes.
I swear, if I get this job, I’m going to buy you all a drink.