time

Sixteen minutes until the eggs are boiled. I set the timer. 16 mins to take for myself to write. I can do that. 

If I can multitask self care self love does it still count? I always do best under pressure. Or is that a lie I’ve accidentally believed all along? I rally. It’s what I do. But my mode is stuck there. Under pressure. Under pressure that burns a building down 

I bought a moon journal, to write down the magical things that happen to me unexpectedly. Opening all my eyes, and considering if the only way out is through, then I think I’m almost out. Like, my building is burning down and that isn’t the end of me. It means I can finally rebuild. What I’ve been resisting is what I’ve been waiting for, to be able to continue. Why does it have to be this hard? I am learning to not ask that question anymore. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Fine Sifting

Imposter girl with no poster

Mountains and trees