|The doodle on this particular document.|
I must produce something soon something soon. It feels like every obligation - from eating to laundry to friends to work - is a fishhook ripping at my skin as I try to walk forward. I am impatient for success but lazy in pursuit. This impatience, however, has not bred haste; rather it's only fed frustration, planting a seed around which other stresses have grown. Around which my waistline has grown.