Some days, nothing is simple anymore. It's always pieces being broken into smaller pieces, chaotic mess, more and more of it unraveling everyday. It's picking up things that keep falling down, it's waking up when I don't want to, it's too many words spoken at once, it's constantly multitasking, it's unnecessary distractions, it's time limits and deadlines, it's an intricate string of miss happenings and undone work and mistakes twisting around me. It's the feeling that I can't breathe. Or it's the feeling that I'm stuck in a tiny room, walls on every side of me, too close, cramping me, and squeezing all feeling out of my body until I'm numb all over.
Yes, some days, everything piles up until it's too much for me.
And other days, other days...I wake up by my own choice, and I open my eyes to a warm sunrise filtering through the windows onto my bed. And I get to drink my tea, and read my book, and sit outside on the grass with the sun on my back, and write and let the feeling I get when I write sink in and relieve and refresh and comfort. I get to draw, to clear my head, to dance and twirl to a Taylor Swift song in my room. I get to stand and watch the sunset fade at the end of the day.
Some days it is simple again.