anahat nad

I feel a restlessness settling into my bones.
There's this raging spirit that's constantly suppressed by my physical limitations. I can't run down the street screaming at the top of my lungs, damnit, but if I could, I would.
And, of course, I hardly ever put a string of words together with the expectation that it'll sync coherently with my thought processes.

An appreciation and acknowledgment for my day-to-day life isn't going to come from anywhere but within. That damn good GPA? I'm aware of it. Taking photos, sketching little elephants and doodles, writing a mindless blog, not for artistic worth, but for those few minutes of release from the pressure of a chronic illness- I savor that. My breathing? The challenge I confront daily when I march up that hill; I'm aware of it. This spirit, this unwillingness to let anything overwhelm the balance, that's yours truly. Just me.

And hope, it's internal.