There are days when I question the point of what I am doing. I curl up at home, amazed that I have transitioned into the adult world and can support my own wants and needs, wondering about the point of saving and planning ahead, delaying the enjoyment of right now. And yet, I align myself for the next job, next step, next goal, in all aspects but a few.
Stress, my close friend, has settled back into her place on my shoulder. I need to stretch it a bit more to dislodge her, make space for the things I like right now to shake her off. I was once greeted in a classroom by the number of days I have left in my life on the chalkboard. Despite the incredible sinking feeling and the abhorrence I felt towards that teacher at the time, it is something I think about sometimes as I sit at my desk under fluorescent lights during the day, wondering what kind of positive impact I am making in this world. I worry that the number might be erased and revised down the line or that the impact I could be making is lost somewhere in the details I enter into a spreadsheet.
It is only Tuesday.