I wake up from a stupid nightmare and I’m so angry. Angry with myself for still not moving on as fast as I want to. My thoughts lie with me for the next half an hour as I half heartedly try to fall back asleep.
I try to pinpoint the emotions that I feel, and I have to separate them out because they don’t come singularly but as a crowd of demanding feelings. Some throb hard and angrily while others sit quietly, but they’re all there, interwoven amongst each other.
There are so many Whys, What Ifs and Buts. And I’m sick of it all. I’m tired of running threads through my mind. And maybe I should stop actively doing that. Maybe I should instead actively steer my mind towards focusing on bettering me. I should sketch, or meditate, or read, or write, or eat. But some days, my thoughts just occupy the whole room, and I can only find a single spot on the ceiling to come up for air, a single moment of peace before the pressure of memories come swarming back up my throat again.
Some days are just tougher than others. And I’m so sick of it.