I have so many things to do, and yet, I do nothing.
I don’t know where to start.
I get up, determined to begin, and find myself pacing back and forth. Accomplishing nothing.
So I sit back down and reach for my book. Always my book.
I don’t know what to do in my own story, so I get lost in someone else’s.
And slowly, the hours of the day pass, one by one.
Darkness falls, and still I read, deep into the night.
Another day ends.
A new one begins.
I am wasting time.
I am running out of time.
I am beginning to panick.
And still, I read.
Deep into the night.