Anxiety...

So there I was last night exhausted as all get out, when a dreadful thought claimed me. I vaguely recalled a show joking about a cubicle being half the size of a jail cell. My God. That is so true. Believe it or not, I actually began to panic. Yes, people, I panicked like a ho in church. I began to sweat. Then I began to pace. Is this what I signed on for when I signed on to this thing called Life? Jesus, this is a horrible assignment.

I know some of you are reading this and thinking, "She's gone bananas." But I know there are good number of you who feel my pain. You wake up, get dressed, eat/don't eat, catch a bus/drive, get to work, sigh, do your job, eat/don't eat, try to finish out your day, get back on the bus/drive, get home, eat/don't eat, sleep. Repeat. Pepper in some bathroom time and that's it. 

Today, as I strolled through the train station, I compared everyone around me to a herd of gazelles, bumping and trotting to their destination. We were all moving through the valley and I just wanted to break from the pack. However, I didn't want to be the one mowed down by a lion. So, I kept moving along the line. Ugh!

There is this piece of me that wants to make a difference, but another piece that could really care less. God, that sounds so shallow. I want to pursue the things I love, but they sound so silly. I know what I'm good at, but continue to do the things I am horrible at.

THAT'S IT!

I am tired of being so bloody wishy-washy with myself. I got two ovaries (because I don't have balls, people, follow me) and a lot of gumption. How do I not wake up on Sunday morning, worried about Monday morning? Hmmmm.

I'll get back to you when it kicks in... Pray for me, y'all.