My thoughts are nothing, I've been too stressed to eat, write and think. All I want to do is find the comfiest bed and watch movies with my love. But instead, I rot while writing papers and thinking about plants. I burnt myself out, trying to finish everything at once, however I became a dead match unable to light anything. All I want is to reset, find a place with no worries and stay until my brain can write again.
I want to create art and read, but instead I find myself in the last place I want to be, with only my fear of failure to guide me. I'll get out of this rut, I always do, it's just a matter of taking things slow, rolling with the punches if I have to.
Recently I have the desire to put myself in a cocoon and go through a metamorphosis, all my stress peeling off of me. That would be nice.
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