Exhaustion setting in...
I just can't go on any longer. All of the boxes and the junk and the clothes and the piles and piles of things I still have to find a place for - the only problem is that I have so many piles of crap that I keep forgetting what is in each pile. Either that or I start on one just for the next one to pile up again. It's so endless...like a vortex full of crap that I can't escape.
I want to escape...escape it all.
Right now I just feel trapped by everything. Whether I really am or not, I can't tell. But history is repeating itself and I don't see any changes. And things everywhere are starting to look like they used to...and it's just killing me.
And on top of all of that, I'm so exhausted. I just have no energy left. I can barely drag myself out of bed to do the things that I dread doing, much less accomplish anything significant...
...sigh. I'm just so tired.
And there isn't time for anyone to significantly care about it...not even me. I just have to keep on going. I just have to keep packing and unpacking and packing and unpacking - all just to pack and unpack again. But I can't stop now. I can't just relax and breathe in deep.
No, instead, I just keep running myself bone dry. And at night? All I do is dream the kind of dreams that make you wake up and you don't really feel like you've rested at all because you're confused or angry or terrified or so unsure how you ought to feel that you just lay there staring at the cieliing, wondering where the ngiht went.
And there is no one to talk to.
Everyone is so busy - just like I am - that there is just no time. No time to tell the world how I'm feeling or that damn it, I'm scared. Or that I'm frustrated about a million and a half things and feel like I can't do a single thing to make any of the better or just go away. And sometimes, I just want to stop and scream at the top of my lungs that things don't look right, or feel right, or are right...but there just isn't time. By the time I think I'm to the top of the mountain so I can start screaming, the mountain moves and I have to clammour up a different one - in vain of course, because by the time I get there, it will just be another mountain to climb. And so I get stuck climbing all the mountains and have no time to scream.
Well, all I want to do is scream.
I don't want to talk, or cry, or figure anything out. I don't want to keep trucking or get it all finished. I don't want to make lists of all the millions and millions of things I still have to do. I don't want to make it better.
I just want to scream.
But the only scream I can hear in the one on the inside that is begging me to just get away from all of this for two seconds so I can clear my head. But the problem is that no matter where I go, there is no air clean enough, no breath deep enought to clear my mind, to sweep up my thoughts, to make all my turmoil just drift off on the next cool breeze.
Why?
Because everywhere I turn there is one more store to get to, one more pair of this that I need, or one more thing on the list that I have to do. Everytime I turn around, there is one more pile of crap to move, one more box to unpack, one more shelf to clear off, one more drawer to fill. And no matter how hard I work at it, the piles never go down, the boxes are never unpacked, the shelves are never clear, and the drawers are always too full to do anything else about them.
And so, it just continues...the piles, the boxes, and the endless loads of junk that I have to get rid of or put away or throw out. And it doesn't matter how many loads we get rid of, how many trash cans I fill, how many things I shove into the bulging corners of my room.
It's just never done.
...sigh...I guess I sort of feel that way about my heart right now too. Like it's full of old boxes and new boxes and endless piles and piles of crap that I don't know what to do with. Like I have five hundred lifetimes all shoved into one tiny space and no matter what I do...
It just never gets better. Just like my room.
And it's just like the hallway. It doesn't matter how many people and how many times we clear it out, it just fills up again with more piles of things to do other things with. And it doesn't matter if it was clean when the day started, by the end of the day - it will just be the same as it was yesterday. And it doesn't matter how wodnerfully sparkling my closet it the night before, in the morning - it'll just be the same old delimna over and over and over and over again...
until I either surrender, burn it all, and throw my hands up; Or until I just walk away from it and declare it done.
...it's too much like my life...
...it's too much like the future or the past or the hellish present that I feel so stuck in...
...it's just too much like it.
So much like it, in fact, that I can't do anything about it.
-RK
I want to escape...escape it all.
Right now I just feel trapped by everything. Whether I really am or not, I can't tell. But history is repeating itself and I don't see any changes. And things everywhere are starting to look like they used to...and it's just killing me.
And on top of all of that, I'm so exhausted. I just have no energy left. I can barely drag myself out of bed to do the things that I dread doing, much less accomplish anything significant...
...sigh. I'm just so tired.
And there isn't time for anyone to significantly care about it...not even me. I just have to keep on going. I just have to keep packing and unpacking and packing and unpacking - all just to pack and unpack again. But I can't stop now. I can't just relax and breathe in deep.
No, instead, I just keep running myself bone dry. And at night? All I do is dream the kind of dreams that make you wake up and you don't really feel like you've rested at all because you're confused or angry or terrified or so unsure how you ought to feel that you just lay there staring at the cieliing, wondering where the ngiht went.
And there is no one to talk to.
Everyone is so busy - just like I am - that there is just no time. No time to tell the world how I'm feeling or that damn it, I'm scared. Or that I'm frustrated about a million and a half things and feel like I can't do a single thing to make any of the better or just go away. And sometimes, I just want to stop and scream at the top of my lungs that things don't look right, or feel right, or are right...but there just isn't time. By the time I think I'm to the top of the mountain so I can start screaming, the mountain moves and I have to clammour up a different one - in vain of course, because by the time I get there, it will just be another mountain to climb. And so I get stuck climbing all the mountains and have no time to scream.
Well, all I want to do is scream.
I don't want to talk, or cry, or figure anything out. I don't want to keep trucking or get it all finished. I don't want to make lists of all the millions and millions of things I still have to do. I don't want to make it better.
I just want to scream.
But the only scream I can hear in the one on the inside that is begging me to just get away from all of this for two seconds so I can clear my head. But the problem is that no matter where I go, there is no air clean enough, no breath deep enought to clear my mind, to sweep up my thoughts, to make all my turmoil just drift off on the next cool breeze.
Why?
Because everywhere I turn there is one more store to get to, one more pair of this that I need, or one more thing on the list that I have to do. Everytime I turn around, there is one more pile of crap to move, one more box to unpack, one more shelf to clear off, one more drawer to fill. And no matter how hard I work at it, the piles never go down, the boxes are never unpacked, the shelves are never clear, and the drawers are always too full to do anything else about them.
And so, it just continues...the piles, the boxes, and the endless loads of junk that I have to get rid of or put away or throw out. And it doesn't matter how many loads we get rid of, how many trash cans I fill, how many things I shove into the bulging corners of my room.
It's just never done.
...sigh...I guess I sort of feel that way about my heart right now too. Like it's full of old boxes and new boxes and endless piles and piles of crap that I don't know what to do with. Like I have five hundred lifetimes all shoved into one tiny space and no matter what I do...
It just never gets better. Just like my room.
And it's just like the hallway. It doesn't matter how many people and how many times we clear it out, it just fills up again with more piles of things to do other things with. And it doesn't matter if it was clean when the day started, by the end of the day - it will just be the same as it was yesterday. And it doesn't matter how wodnerfully sparkling my closet it the night before, in the morning - it'll just be the same old delimna over and over and over and over again...
until I either surrender, burn it all, and throw my hands up; Or until I just walk away from it and declare it done.
...it's too much like my life...
...it's too much like the future or the past or the hellish present that I feel so stuck in...
...it's just too much like it.
So much like it, in fact, that I can't do anything about it.
-RK
3 Thought(s):
Hmmm...it looks like you need a vacation. But before you go ahead and scream at me, remember, He is waiting for you.
Matthew 11:28-30
Selah!
Hey, I have a tag board up so people can comment on my site. Selah!
Thank you. That is something I needed to hear.
And I would comment on your blog, but honestly - it confused me before. Maybe I was just feeling frazzeled at the time. I will certainly try again.
It's good to know that someone is listening. *sigh*
Thank you. That is something I needed to hear.
And I would comment on your blog, but honestly - it confused me before. Maybe I was just feeling frazzeled at the time. I will certainly try again.
It's good to know that someone is listening. *sigh*
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