6 DAYS.

July 3, 2007

I wrote this one when the burnout was starting to crack through the surface. I was six days deep into a brutal stretch of shifts—no sleep, fast food, too much caffeine, and a growing resentment I didn’t want to admit was there. Every day started to feel the same: sirens, vomit, paperwork, rinse, repeat. But what got me wasn’t the chaos—it was the numbness. That creeping sense that nothing could touch me anymore, like I was fading into the uniform. I remember typing this out in the cab of the rig, engine idling, my partner inside grabbing burritos. It wasn’t pretty or polished—I just needed to get the poison out before it started to feel normal. This post was a pressure release valve. A confession, really.