The more I have in my plate the more unsure I become of my competence. I worry about being too free, now I wish for some room to breathe. I might’ve said yes too quickly to too many things; my pace now become forced and rushed it might give up at a certain point. Soon. The spillovers are restlessness, paranoia, guilt, the need to be comforted I feel pathetic. I hate to be a burden. I feel pathetic.
I’m too slow to be fast. I’m exhausted.
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