Some days there don't seem to be any lights at the end of the tunnel... only the cold, muddy earth beneath my feet, slowing my progress. I wonder what else could be around the corner, waiting to pounce.
I try to imagine what my brother and sister would say. They would tell me life is too short.
I know that.
I want to know what to do ... which way to turn, how to get out of this mess without losing myself and still moving forward with my own goals and dreams.
But, truthfully, the only dream I have right at this moment, is a good night's sleep and an empty to do list.
I leave the windows down in my car just a crack so the air can circulate ... the other day, my mom came in and said to me, "Chila's in your car." I am not sure what the look on my face said to her. She continued, "there's a white butterfly in your car." Her face was alight with the hope and belief that what she said was true. All I could feel was an ache in the center of my body.
For the past two weeks, I have felt like someone was vacuuming out my soul ... as if someone had stuck a hose into the chest cavity. It an odd ache ... that feeling I can only associate with heartache. Or whatever is worse than heartache... something like the space where a heart used to be, empty, aching and unable to heal.
I keep getting out of bed and standing upright and trying to move forward when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. I want to be anywhere but here, to run away to where none of this is true, to be safe somewhere from whatever is going to happen next.
But, I am here, and my parents are here, and my rewrites are due in two weeks, and I am exhausted and feel like I have no more to give. And I will keep on giving and hope it doesn't kill me, too.