I used to know what it was like to be normal. Well, somewhat. Maybe I never have been normal by worldly means, just normal for people... er... like me. I guess you could say that I once was an introvert. Never said anything out of place, never fighting back. I could sit cozy between the shelves of the library for hours, reading until my neck and eyes began to scream "Stop it!" I took whatever life threw at me at whatever point in time. Deep down, I was fiery, stubborn, overly independent. Maybe even a little rebellious to some? But I tried my hardest not to show it. Have I just stopped trying by now?
These achey pains are just so stubborn. I could consume a million cups of tea and yet they still will remain. My physical exhaustion, that feeling that it wouldn't matter how many days I could sleep and I would still feel icky, lingers constantly. BAH.
I would still so much rather be snuggled in between the pages of Shakespeare and Jane Austen than to have my nose crammed between the pages of an encyclopedia. I hate thesis papers. I hate 12 degree weather and clouds without an ounce of rain (maybe snow?). I hate whatever this is that is fighting inside of me.
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1 comment:
Your words always seem to capture exactly what I'm thinking, Tuesday! From the hatred of the cold to dreaded thesis papers, you've done it again!
It'll get better, I hope for the sake of both of us. Let us wish for warm weather and lazy days, shall we?
x
Addy
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