It called my name, like a beacon to my butt. I couldn't help but sit and do absolutely nothing but just that: sit.
I didn't even think.
I just breathed.
Felt the cool air.
Breathed some more.
Ten minutes of blissful nothingness.
I haven't denied myself of mini-breaks here and there. I'll minimize the Word docs, close the DSM-IV-TR, and pull up something fun and pointless on Netflix for a little while.
But the whole time I'm 'relaxing,' I'm thinking. Strategizing.
Mentally going through the to-do-list with a fine tooth comb.
The hours at work only build. The assignments for school continue to skyrocket. The readings are towering.
It's been days since I showered. Yes, I'm openly putting that out there. No, that's not typically me. But when calculating sleep in minutes instead of hours amidst an insane schedule, I'd prefer a twenty minute nap. Real talk.
My mouth is full of canker sores; an unpleasant sign my body is not dealing well with stress. One word text messages turn into hours worth of worry about relationships and rapports; over analyzing, which interrupts those aforementioned naps sprinkling my day here and there. My appetite is waning, unless sugar is involved, in which case utensils become optional.
Patience is down. Emotions are up.
And I'm all over the place.
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