This is where I find myself,
Every passing day.
Anxious.
Nervous.
But behind all that,
Afraid.
Every passing day.
I fear that this is all that my life is.
Waiting for it to be over.
Waiting for the time to pass so I can go home.
Waiting for the day to end so I can go back to the sweet comfort of sleep.
Interruptions and irritations.
I’m grumpy, angry, afraid.
I’m tired.
Worn out.
Exhausted.
Every passing day.
I don’t know how long I can go on doing this.
My back hurts.
My side hurts.
My soul hurts.
I can feel my life slipping away with each minute wasted.
I want to break free.
To reclaim my time and my place in this world.
I was made for so much more, but now I have to find out how to make that happen.
And so I wait.
Every passing day.
And so I die a little, every passing day.
And so I pray every passing day.
Written by Michael Paine
Donations to PayPal.Me/michaelpaine are also welcome, because writing ain't easy but it's necessary.