My life is becoming full.
I am so close to having to empty my life inbox it is nearly deafening.
I have so many things on the go.
Busy, busy, stagnant.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
My stress levels skyrocket so high- I just... I find I have more coping mechanisms than I know what to deal with. I am an orstrich with my head in the sand, and I am a bear with its' mouth covered in blood.
I play a dangerous game with myself. I live for my downtime. Work is meaningless and mostly an enabler for my laziness.
I want to crotchet, read my bloodlust novels, write my feeling down on paper, drink my tea, watch senseless amounts of shit on television. I am happy at home- happy but I swear my family can smell it and like sharks in the water...
-are after me.
Their stresses, and strains suffocate me. They fuel my indifference and blatent apathy.
Throw me a big fucking neon lifering and drag me back to a world where I am capable of empathy.