I'm supposed to write a proposal. I don't normally work at home but I've only got two months to straighten up a lot of things so time is gold. That doesn't really make sense, does it? You can buy gold but even the world's richest man can't buy time. Well instead of working, I've been staring at the laptop clock as if watching the tiny arrow moves will somehow slow down the universal time. I need to think but the clock keeps ticking and thinking about the ticking clock makes me anxious. I feel like screaming "Stop you bloody clock! Just give me time to think!" which probably sounds familiar in a mental hospital and that scares me. Have I fallen off the track? Dang, three minutes gone writing all that.
Take a long, deep breath Izni. It's no big deal. You can do this. You have everything it takes to pull through. This is nothing compared to what most people have to endure.
Writing is really a therapy. No wonder people bare their emotions, complaints and prayers online. Until a second ago, I used to think it's silly because you don't need Facebook to talk to God. I guess sometimes you only need to put it out there to get your perspective. I'm done now. Ticking clock or not, here I go again.
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