Rooting for inspiration

I told myself that today, I need to be inspired.  I wanted to be inspired because I have a lot riding on the next three months.  In three months, the program I have been working hard to stay in will be over.  Three months.  I’ve been here since August 2009, and in three months, I’m done.  I will be an officer and I will be assigned in a department where I can work my ass off without shame for the next 3 or 30 years.  Three months.  That’s all there is to it.  So I told myself, I need to be inspired.

Then, I started cleaning my room.  I’ve been renting a room here in Quezon City because it’s the closest place I can get and it’s one short ride to work.  I started cleaning and I found out, I have a pest.  I have a pest and it just made a corner of my room its home.  And today, I need to be inspired.  I need to tell myself that I am making this life better for me, where I am not dependent on anyone but myself.  My mad skills.  My rationale.  My intellect.  I need to be inspired just when I saw a corner of my rented space telling me that I am rotting away.

I am so tired.  I’ve been preserving everything.  From my family to my relationship with Dylan, everything hangs at a sensitive balance.  It’s so sensitive that I can’t have anything disrupt it.  But then again, there’s a pest in the corner of my rented room.  The cheap rented room, close to work, managed to gather more disgrace by harboring an unwanted neighbor.  Now, I have to call someone to get rid of the pest.  Another thick wad of money down the drain, another problem that needed solving, another thing that needed balancing.

There are days when I feel like I’m way in over my head, that I bit more than I can chew on this one.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted.  I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and just want to throw up.  I eat a full meal and after reading about credit standards and delegated authorized credit limits, I just want to hurl.  I don’t know if there’s any space left for me, for my sanity.  I don’t know if there’s any space left period.

Three months left, and all the late nights, all the paperwork, all the missed birthdays, all the missed family trips, all the arguments, they’re all on me.  And I just feel like hurling, like throwing up, so I can make space.  Throw up so I can at least get a bit of elbow room.  Throw up so I can get to the phone and get someone to get rid of that neighboring pest.

Everything has to be balanced.  Just three months left.  I just have to have everything balanced in the next three months.  After that, they can all fly up in the air and be in perfect chaos again.


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