It drives me mad, you know? The way that the light flickers in the office. But then again, this house has always been mad in itself. Too full or too empty of what the heart needs. Always drought or flood. How is one even expected to breathe in that type of environment?

The ceiling light was part of a fan unit with four bulbs. So often do they randomly dim to quickly go back to full strength. Never with specific timing or rate. There are days where it barely occurs and others where it barely seems to have a break. Maybe it behaves differently if it knows I am watching. The house is mad after all. Always has been.

I wish it would pick a lane. To either work or fail. Even the sun has a set order, so why does it get to be different? I wonder if God ever feels the same about me. Wait, am I still talking about the bulbs or myself? I told you it was driving me mad. Mad at the ceiling light. Mad at myself. All within this mad house.

Actually, maybe the light is perfect for me.