I think I’m about to break my record on how much time I spent without saying a word. Maybe it’s time I get back to talking *with* myself. But if that was easy maybe I would already have an easier time trying to sleep.

Can’t stop, can’t think.

Shouldn’t stop, should think.

It’s been the fastest I’ve ever ran but I’m not catching these flights with all this baggage I’m dragging.

It’s as if I’m waiting for something to crash so I can stop and fix it. Mom didn’t teach me how to walk without a limp.

I learned that between anxiety, fear and exhaustion at least the latter comes with hard work. Can’t help but to take pride in how tired I am of myself.

“Girl you’d be my shining star, if you’d fucking break my leg, with your motherfucking car“