I hate when I get so overwhelmed that I can’t fake having my shit together any longer.
Even more than that, I hate that I don’t have my shit together. That I can’t have it together every second of every day. The fact that I am not, in actuality, WonderWoman, incenses me.
The allure of solitude tugs at me more and more lately. I notice it yet have no energy to fight it.
Music, running, & yoga. That’s what are keeping me together right now. And maybe a little bit of Elmer’s glue stick, straight from my drawer of door tag supplies. I am an RA, after all.