The Mess That Is My Life....
"With no left to save us from ourselves, who will we
become?"
I can't shake the feeling those words give me. Brought
to me in a dream, I'm not sure whether they invoke tears
of joy or of sadness. My mind is restless. I fear I am
doing too much in a vain attempt to forget my lonliness.
The distinct feeling I get when I remember how few people
I know or how restricted I am living here evokes emotions
I have yet to experience. Why am I always running away
from myself? What will it take to make me happy?
I woke from that dream in a sheer state of panic. I
couldn't breathe. My throat was tight and sore. My
insides felt like they were burning. My mouth was pasty
and foul. I ran to the bathroom and proceeded to get
sick. I brushed my teeth and seethed. My chemical-laden
throat was on fire. I remembered my mother's words. I
searched the fridge for something to stop the pain. Two
pieces of bread later, I laid down again. Within minutes,
I was asleep.
My alarm could not persuade me to move. I stayed in bed
longer than I needed to. I rushed to get to work on time
and in the process locked my keys (my only set) inside my
house. I could not get into Mrs. Hill's house and her
daughter had left for the day. At my wit's end, I
borrowed her neighbor's key and proceeded in getting her
ready for the day.
There is no entry in the house without breaking something.
No spare keys are available. I made sure of that after I
learned my family was letting themself into my home when I
was away. Now, I wonder why I am so smug. A broken
window means little to a broken girl like me. Will I ever
get myself together?
Grandma said the feeling I had in the night was most
likely a serious case of acid reflux. I'm sure she's
right but knowledge of it does little to ease my mind.
If my suspicions are correct, I most likely have an ulcer.
Always on the go, I don't have time to pity myself.
I hope life will be different when I move. I need a place
to start over. A place where a day off is not unheard of
and sleeping late is tolerated from time to time. I
cannot do what I am doing here. Working day and night,
seven days a week. Lifting a woman twice my
size a dozen times a day. Taking five classes and
cramming homework into overcrowded slots in my
schedule. I need to get away and wish that I could leave
sooner.
"With no left to save us from ourselves, who will we
become?"
I guess I will find that out soon.
become?"
I can't shake the feeling those words give me. Brought
to me in a dream, I'm not sure whether they invoke tears
of joy or of sadness. My mind is restless. I fear I am
doing too much in a vain attempt to forget my lonliness.
The distinct feeling I get when I remember how few people
I know or how restricted I am living here evokes emotions
I have yet to experience. Why am I always running away
from myself? What will it take to make me happy?
I woke from that dream in a sheer state of panic. I
couldn't breathe. My throat was tight and sore. My
insides felt like they were burning. My mouth was pasty
and foul. I ran to the bathroom and proceeded to get
sick. I brushed my teeth and seethed. My chemical-laden
throat was on fire. I remembered my mother's words. I
searched the fridge for something to stop the pain. Two
pieces of bread later, I laid down again. Within minutes,
I was asleep.
My alarm could not persuade me to move. I stayed in bed
longer than I needed to. I rushed to get to work on time
and in the process locked my keys (my only set) inside my
house. I could not get into Mrs. Hill's house and her
daughter had left for the day. At my wit's end, I
borrowed her neighbor's key and proceeded in getting her
ready for the day.
There is no entry in the house without breaking something.
No spare keys are available. I made sure of that after I
learned my family was letting themself into my home when I
was away. Now, I wonder why I am so smug. A broken
window means little to a broken girl like me. Will I ever
get myself together?
Grandma said the feeling I had in the night was most
likely a serious case of acid reflux. I'm sure she's
right but knowledge of it does little to ease my mind.
If my suspicions are correct, I most likely have an ulcer.
Always on the go, I don't have time to pity myself.
I hope life will be different when I move. I need a place
to start over. A place where a day off is not unheard of
and sleeping late is tolerated from time to time. I
cannot do what I am doing here. Working day and night,
seven days a week. Lifting a woman twice my
size a dozen times a day. Taking five classes and
cramming homework into overcrowded slots in my
schedule. I need to get away and wish that I could leave
sooner.
"With no left to save us from ourselves, who will we
become?"
I guess I will find that out soon.