I'm having a hard time lately rising above the rage that seems to be seething just below the surface of my skin. Even right now, I can feel it burning, ready to escape as soon I unleash it. Such a lovely picture, right?
I want to rage against the night right now. I want to scream and punch holes in walls and kick the nearest living being. I want to push and rip and bite chunks out of anything that seems too whole or perfect. I. Want. To. Lose. It.
In the middle of this primitive desire is my knowledge that I'm really just feeling overwhelmed and don't know how to let something slide. I worked for two days this week with a low grade fever. I'm not sleeping through my coughing spells. My floors are layered with dirt.
I have a five inch stack of papers to grade and way too much writing work to do. Now I have to go to a training tomorrow that I took last summer. Each weekend for the month of March is already booked with weekend guests, parties, and even the GRE. My head is already spinning.
I live my life this way, as I know most women do. I continue to push through doing what everyone else wants. Or at least what I think everyone else wants. I push my own wonderings and longings to the side, wishing that someone else will notice them sitting there all alone and give them back to me.
Where's the shelter for forgotten dreams?
See how right I was? I started off with a rant about my anger, and I've ended with a rather weepy sounding soul sob. I want to go stretch out in my yard under the stars and cry like a toddler desperately stretching out awake time.
That's me. Desperately trying to stretch out the awake time of my life.
I want to rage against the night right now. I want to scream and punch holes in walls and kick the nearest living being. I want to push and rip and bite chunks out of anything that seems too whole or perfect. I. Want. To. Lose. It.
In the middle of this primitive desire is my knowledge that I'm really just feeling overwhelmed and don't know how to let something slide. I worked for two days this week with a low grade fever. I'm not sleeping through my coughing spells. My floors are layered with dirt.
I have a five inch stack of papers to grade and way too much writing work to do. Now I have to go to a training tomorrow that I took last summer. Each weekend for the month of March is already booked with weekend guests, parties, and even the GRE. My head is already spinning.
I live my life this way, as I know most women do. I continue to push through doing what everyone else wants. Or at least what I think everyone else wants. I push my own wonderings and longings to the side, wishing that someone else will notice them sitting there all alone and give them back to me.
Where's the shelter for forgotten dreams?
See how right I was? I started off with a rant about my anger, and I've ended with a rather weepy sounding soul sob. I want to go stretch out in my yard under the stars and cry like a toddler desperately stretching out awake time.
That's me. Desperately trying to stretch out the awake time of my life.
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