The boxes and heaps of myself on the floor. 

I’m not able to process my life as quickly as it happens. I think, perhaps I have delayed reactions. I will have an instant reaction, screams, laughter, anger, tears. It’s all very extreme. But then I settle and push and close. I do this so much over and over until the things I’ve closed demand attention. 

They come bursting through. Often at the worst times. I go through these things like the contents of an old box. This thing happened weeks ago, I must now deal with it. 

Then there are the things that I should be done with that seep out through the cracks. They plow into me again and again. I think to myself as I’m being run over by this familiar thing that this can’t possibly be happening again. Again. 

Again. 

I end up a heap on the floor next to my box that I recently went through. I look around and there is my life. The new things in the box that I have to organize and take care of, and the old things laying on the floor that demand attention. 

If I were smarter or more capable, or knew what the fuck I was doing at all, I’d not process my life this way. 

Self awareness leads to self improvement, doesn’t it? 

Shouldn’t it? 

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