I'm surprised I still have the energy to over think everything this week. It's been a constant struggle to feel like myself with the amount of pressure and stress I feel pulling me down at work. There really is never a day when I can sit down and smile and feel content at my desk. Not anymore, anyway. I remember what it used to be like and wonder if if that was just something I had conjured up in a dream. I was never meant to be trapped somewhere, I was always the independent one, the one who did what I wanted, when I wanted, where I wanted. There were no borders back then, it was so easy to run away to another country, drop whatever I was doing and get on a train to another city, work an extra shift to pay rent, take on a new student to but a new dress or CD, go to class or not, stay in bed and read Byron or Hardy all day... How did I ever end up working all the hours of the day (and evening) in an office on the 40th floor in a building in Manhattan?!
I still dream about being able to flutter around like a butterfly, landing here and there and taking off again. I know I craved some kind of stability, but I can grow roots anywhere, and I know how deep they still are in the places where I tried to pull them out.
It HAS to change. If I close my eyes long enough maybe I will open them and realise that this is all a dream and my dreams are reality.