When I'm at home, I want to go back to school.
When I'm at school, I want to go home.
I enjoy relaxing,
Letting my aching joints go numb.
I appreciate not having any responsibilities for a day.
I am grateful to not feel the agony for a moment.
However,
The movements within the house,
the creaking in the attic,
the cans rolling outside the wall,
the noises get louder, and
the claustrophobia squeezes at my head.
They all attack right when I felt like I was at peace.
While I am in this house,
I always end up saying, "I just want to go back home."
"But you are home," they always say.
I itch to get back to school,
I want to rely on myself,
I cherish hearing people obnoxiously walk down the halls, and
the anxiousness seems to fade.
However,
The sixteen-hour schedule every day,
the overwhelming courses,
the first job - me being pulled in all directions, MANAGER,
the second job - the insurmountable pressure, PIONEER,
the third job - being bossy and climbing a never ending mountain, EDITOR,
working when I'm not on the clock,
carrying thirty pounds on my back,
making sure I eat more than once throughout the day, and
never telling someone no when they ask for my help.
I love the busy schedule.
It keeps the darkness at bay, and
it keeps the pain away.
I need the busy schedule.
I get more stuff done that way.
This cyclic lifestyle works for me.
However,
I always ache for the next step.
Never stopping, never taking a break.
I have learned to love this life,
along with the sunshine each morning, and
the sunset each night.
I love the warmth, and I accept the achy cold.
I love the silence, but I hate being alone.
In the end, it will all be okay.
The sun goes up and down without a fight, and
the same goes for me every day and night.