I’m tired- like, in my bones tired, and no amount of sleep will help. Trust me, I’ve tried. And no, I’m not sick- unless you can contract Mono by lying in bed, watching Entourage.
I’ve come to a stark realization that there is so much I want to do, and see, and read, and write, and watch, and the sheer thought of doing any of the former paralyzes me. And the concept that there’s so much to do, but so little time to do it becomes a small, dark room.
And that’s where I’ve been for the past month or so.
Trapped by the notion that there is so much to be done, but I don’t know where to begin.
Hold tight, won't you? I'll figure it out soon enough.