Ack. I am so frustrated right now.
I want space. I want freedom. I want more time.
I am tired of being busy. Tired of feeling dulled. Tired of trying, but not quite enough to get to the results I want. Not even being sure of the exact results I am aiming for, being too busy to sit down and sort them out.
I am tired of feeling watched, my breath caught in a half-expansion, my limbs stiff with disuse. So close but still stifled. So capable but not doing. Doing so much to such a good degree, but still not quite there. Wherever there is. Thinking that maybe it is even Here.
Quite tired of the crap and the complaining and of seeing people living their lives in pain. Tired of feeling frivolous because of my own ability to push the pain aside and enjoy life nonetheless.
Wanting to be quite, quite good, but effortlessly, but work all the same. Yeah. That. Not sure if the things I pour so much effort into are the things that count the most in the long run. Or maybe I am, and that's why I do it.
Or maybe I'm just cranky cause the house is untidy, the presents are unwrapped and I have to whip it all into shape, plus a festive dinner, plus homework, plus smile and be gracious in the next five hours. Yeah, it's probably mostly that.
But I do wish I could force the time into my schedule to be patient enough and dedicated enough to write more. And move more. (Ha - a contradiction right there.)