I was sitting on my bed, against the wall, looking across the room to my desk and dresser. It was a mess. All of it. I pulled my knees up to my chest, slamming my head on top of them. I didn't care about it. The look of that desk... with all the work.
I know how much I put on myself, but it's the only was to distract. So why can't I find another, simpler, easy-peasy way? Who knows. I looked back up at the desk, all 23 journals spread out across it. It was intimidating. I had to get so much done before the next day.
But when would I do it? I didn't have the time. My mother had told me many times before: "You know what you're doing to yourself. You need to calm down, lady bug." I always pushed it aside. I'd always tried to ignore the fact that we NEED free time, and privacy. I'd never really listened.
And I know I'll regret it yet again.
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