The minutes are ticking down and she speeds up. Faster. Harder. She's not sure why. Her intensity does nothing to pass the time more quickly. She could go twice as fast and only end up feeling more tired. In fact, she could slow down completely and would still have to endure for just as long. It's in this moment that she realizes the same could be said about life. But faster in life tends to be more exciting than the treadmill so she carries on for practice.

Quiescent

Sometimes she thinks these moments of silence are the ones where the words are most appropriate. Faced with a head full of words, the result is overwhelming silence. She chooses to say nothing and can only hope that's saying something.

Obstructed

She needs the release she gets from the spilling of words out onto a blank canvas. Her mind is so full she can barely concentrate on anything, yet the words refuse to cooperate. It's almost as if the words are a cruel playground bully taunting her from afar. She wishes instead they would just invite her to play.

She's moved twelve times.

Two countries. Three states. Twelve different addresses. Eighteen different roommates.

Lately she finds herself walking down the streets gazing wistfully into the windows at places like Crate and Barrel and West Elm.

While most of her friends are starting to worry that they will never have kids, she's starting to worry that she may never own a couch.

"Like the day between morning and evening, my life falls between my urge to travel and my homesickness. Maybe someday I will have come far enough for travel and distances to becomes part of my soul, so that I will have their images within me, without having to make them literally real anymore." -Wandering, Hermann Hesse

Degrees

Love and hate. Comeplete opposites, yet lately they seem to go hand and hand in her world. Because, you see, it's not the sentiment that makes them equal, it's their intensity.