Curiously Content

I have days that feel as though they are not my own. The alarm halts my dream before the sun rises, and I occupy myself with work into the darker hours. I hear the weather has been nice lately, and the skies exceptionally clear, but my frugal allowance of personal time only permits me to wash my face and brush my teeth before collapsing into the continuation of this cycle.

When I emerge on Friday evening, I look at myself in the mirror, and ask how I can retain myself amidst this chaos. My skin is clammy, my nails chipped, and I am drowning in a sea of unopened bills and bank statements. I miss writing poetry, slowly inhaling and exhaling during long sessions of yoga. I miss painting for hours on end for no reason other than self expression. STrangly enough, if you were to ask me if I am happy, my eyes would ignite with passion and I would tell you that I have never been so content…

And as this is the case, I infer that my happiness is rooted in several things. It is not so self-evident. Firstly, I find this new taste of independence extremely satiating. I leave my mark on all I touch, but most importantly, I am gradually finding ways to make “me” time. I use post-it-notes during lunch breaks to sketch ideas for future paintings, I run in the morning while it is dark and quite, giving me time to breath, think, and sweat, I talk to the people I love when driving. I refuse to sacrifice the important things. But now, every minute is precious…I never forget this.