Time…

It’s mine, isn’t it? I can choose how I invest my energy within the hours of my day, can’t I? I am obligated to work. I struggle with sleep. I balance some chores, and I try to find time to rest. It’s the rest that eludes me.

My time is observed, stollen. I request space. I don’t receive it. I request silence. I don’t hear it. I sit. I communicate by writing, by chatting. I’m lectured for investing my time the way I need to. I’m not allowed to rest. I must tend to needs that don’t belong to me. I must comply with passiveness that results in obligations becoming mine.

I try to find balance. I try to be fair. I try to accomplish. I fail. I look at the list of goals that I set, but no matter how small, success is unreachable. I’m judged. I’m critiqued, by my own sense of failure, but mostly by those who do nothing to help me.

Why should they? They rest. The communicate too. They struggle to find what I’m meant to do.

My biggest mistake is expecting some help. When something’s perceived to be for me, they all run and shout. Nothing is theirs. Nothing is wrong. I’m left to do it all, or grumble that it’s not done.

Why isn’t my time left for me to decide? To read, or to write, to sit and relax? I must always be doing something but it can’t be for me because I’m selfish, and greedy, and lazy, you see.

I crave rest. I crave space. I feel guilty for asking. I don’t take what I need, especially when it involves relaxing.

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