The Dysfunctional Pilgrim

I can feel it, that desperation when you realise every part of you is beeping, screaming "low battery!!" and you still have so much more to work on. Scratch desperation, this is panic. Contained panic, that will eventually leak out like a poisonous radiation gas and vaporize everything. I'm getting close to actually believing that I can't do this anymore. I'm not even sure what "this" is. I'm sure I had some sort of clear idea of what all this was perhaps 2 weeks ago? This is...me redoing people's work. This is...me trying to juggle too many things. This is...me making the sacrifice play. Fixing others' messes. Compensating. This is... What was all this?

This blog could easily be a rant blog, if I permit it. There's so, so SO many things to rant about in life. If you're a natural pessimist like me, it's instinctive. I can write 5 essays a day about how the realities of the world want to bring me down. Or how chocolate eclairs are absolutely gorgeous (yes, positive rants are also possible) Or why, why WHY is the grass so green. SERIOUSLY. But if I do that in my blog here, well just look at this entire entry. It's going to be one big fat mess. Life is already a mess, I rather have my blog in a little bit neater. So sometimes I let it rip on twitter. Or in a vague, random post on facebook.  Sometimes, I don't want to hurt anyone, so I'll just type out the rant and delete it. Sometimes, I don't want to remember the moment at all, so I just refuse to write it anywhere. Words will only etch the moment clearer in my brain, and what's the point of that? But life, for now, has great moments, but it

i no longer have any afternoons free. i want to be a polar bear...or some hibernating creature. "when the going gets tough, the tough...hibernate."