Ive had a tiny nibble of anxiety lately, like my brain is turning gaseous in its attempt to process all I have to do in my social arenas, hustle through schoolwork and still find time for self-realisation. Slowly getting back on my feet though. Note that this is in no shape or form meant to fish pity; I am perfectly capable of getting back up myself. Sometimes you need to acknowledge loudly that there is some friction in your life. This is where I choose to do so. Moreover, I find my age grinding like a rusty cog in my inward machine. Where on earth will I be in 4 or 5 years? Will I ever find out what happens when the fridge door closes? Questions of large and small importance, piling up. With total freedom (not counting moral, ethical or judicial sovereignty) comes the need for finding what few ties you are able to maintain. At this rate Im steaming ahead with the socio-psychological equivalent to cooking too much meat at a time in the frying pan. I find myself asking why Im absent-mindedly drumming pens against tables or why I start so badly when dropping a napkin. I end up at the same conclusion every time: I ask way too many questions.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Sep 2014 21:11:40 +0000
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