I feel that something must be wrong if someone can't sleep contently unless they have crammed as much work into their day as physically possible.
To light a candle, wafts of coconut and sweet vanilla. To be burrowed under the warmth of a duvet, safe. And yet, to feel worthless, no matter how many kind words are uttered into your ear by a loved one.
The only way to feel satisfied is to collapse, intoxicated upon the sheets, distracted from reality. Or to spend the day restlessly reorganising your mind so that you will feel as though you have succeeeded.
Define productivity. Do you invisage earning money, finishing that piece of work off? Or do you picture cherishing the time you have on Earth? I really wish that for all of you, it is the latter.
This post is not saying that I don't desire to work hard, nor is it suggesting that one should not strive to do well in life. I just find it really sad to be unable to remove the element of guilt from my night time routine.
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