The Burnout

by Sophie Kinsella

I have a bullet journal, which came with colored felt tips. You’re supposed to write out all your tasks, color-code them, and tick them off. But who has time for that? Who has time to select a turquoise pen and write, Answer those thirty-four furious emails in your inbox and then find an appropriate sad-face sticker?

Maybe I could lead a different life too. Get a different job, move flats, change everything up. It just requires impetus. I need impetus. A sign from the universe, maybe.

It is sad. I should not be this person. I should not be in this situation. I should not look so stressed out and haggard. And I should not have to leave my job because the department is badly run.

but I guess I’ve been avoiding her. I haven’t had the energy to be “on” and cheerful; nor do I want to dissolve into sobs. I guess this is how people slowly turn into recluses.

Your body is designed to succeed, you know that? Designed to succeed.”

‘Why are you worrying about the sea?’ ” I do my own imitation of Terry. “ ‘The sea sure as hell isn’t worrying about you.’

‘The ride is it.’ ” I turn my head toward Finn. “Remember that? ‘Kids, you have to enjoy the ride. The ride is it.’ ” “ ‘The ride is it.’ ” “ ‘The ride is it.’ ”

“Can you ever get childhood levels of happiness back?” I say, staring out at the water. “Could we ever be as happy as we were here as kids?”

“Don’t know. I’m pretty risk-averse. I really, really don’t want to fail.” “So you think it’s better to be half-living than risk failure?” I feel a visceral shock at Finn’s words. Half-living is a pretty brutal assessment of what I’ve been doing. Although possibly accurate.

I want to enjoy life again, I realize. Because life is the ride, and the ride is it. You have to enjoy