Spitfire Words

Overwhelmed and unable to do anything about it, I flounder around for relief and comfort that my torn and tormented brain won’t accept. Rest is needed but cannot be achieved until duties are fulfilled, work is needed but cannot be completed until there is rest. Balancing acts of precarious necessities as I try to get this done and that done, and squeeze in some work on that over here and get nothing achieved because I am so divided. I freeze and flail, grasping for some means of dragging myself through the churning waters of my mental landscape as the weather there never settles long enough for me to swim. There is no shore.