Goodnight.Goodnight?

I've set yet another countdown for a ticking bomb, a deadline for cutting down the compromise, the unhappiness, the disappointment. I know,it's not always rainbows and butterflies, but too much compromise fails at moving  me along, yet pushes me back into the bitterness. Which, despite all odds, I know is too damn highly amounted when proportioned to my still young being, to my Lilliputian worries, that feed bigger monsters.
Meanwhile, I'm smelling baked corn, unwillingly live listening to the Uefa final, weirldy reminiscing about an odd  highschool compulsory novel about a girl called Nora who dreamed about washing her lover's socks, being particularly irritated and dismayed.