You know when you sit there for ages trying to get your thoughts in a line so you can write a blog post? Everything just seems to keep spinning around and suddenly your head has turned into come kind of weather station, with this hurricane of words just circling and circling. Clear thoughts seem foggy, or whatever you’re supposed to be focused on gets covered in an avalanche as your mind snowballs into oblivion.
Suddenly you’re thinking about how your life fits into the idea of what you thought it would be. You feel shackled to routine by tablet alarms and bed times, because you’re a sensitive little snowflake and you hate that. You feel half the person you should be, because you know you aren’t like everyone else.
You rely on artificial relaxation to help you sleep and you subscribe to weight loss plans that are selling common sense. Slowly, you start to break away from the herd, hoping that you’ll have the space to change and grow into who you really are.
But you find yourself looking back and you realise you’re tired from forcing yourself to grow. You realise that even while you soar, you aren’t a bird. You’re a kite, forever tethered.
The rain tastes like freedom, the fresh air smells like rejuvenation, the sun feels like happiness. And you crave it, reaching out only for it to brush against your fingertips as the shackles pull you back into the eye of the storm.