Resignation

It is the end of the summer and I am resigning myself to the fact that I will not die this summer and will go on living into the next school year. In a way, the end of summer was like my "deadline". Yes, I know this is all ridiculous. I really do. I resent taking that ultimate choice off the table. I feel prisoner to my work again. A voluntary prisoner to be sure, but a prisoner nonetheless. I come home late, exhausted from work and spend an hour or two feeling acutely lonely, fall into a troubled sleep, and start again before the sun rises. Is this really what it means to be alive?