Write about finding your own way:
I see chaos. Constant chaos. It fills my room up. There are post-it notes everywhere with written words that repeat itself on a planner. I have clothes that are being washed. They come out of the dryer, and they need to be folded. I have finished the reading for today's class. In two days, the next one will be due. I have just finished a paper, another one will be due in two weeks. I have not caught up with reading a book I wanted to finish for myself. I tell myself I will finish it soon.
I cannot bear to look at the time. I see the clock out of my peripheral vision and swear that a half hour could not have passed yet. It is now 2 in the morning. I need to go to bed, I am so tired. There is so much work that could have been done. There is so much I have already accomplished, but there is so much left. There will continue to be more chaos.
All the while I am wondering when I can sit down, and have a full day to do whatever I would like to do. Do those days exist anymore? Are they merely a figment of my 10 year old self's imagination? Where have those days, where have those times gone?
What is this all for, if I don't know yet. I don't know what I'm doing all this for. I'm driving, I'm walking, I'm talking, I'm typing, I'm writing, I'm studying, I'm analyzing, I'm participating, I'm caring, I'm trying. I'm living, but I don't know what for. But I'm breathing.
And so I choose these moments as apart of waking up each day. And so a path will have to form at some point in time. My own way will have to form at some point in time, right?
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
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