This chiral strain,
Pulls me through a viscous game,
Keeps me sane,
Through all the pain,
A crying shame,
That I can’t feign,
the heart to blame,
Anyone for my selfish reign, a choice all my own.
A very simple poem describing my frustration at my own failure to balance school, volunteering, work, and my art. I knew what I was getting into, but anxiety gets the better of me sometimes. Stuff like this traps the issues on the paper, freeing myself from their weight. Helps me keep it in perspective, you know?
It’s hard, sometimes I really don’t enjoy school the way I used to. It’s disorienting because I picked a major I loved and was interested in. But sometimes the urge to create taints that love, increasing anxiety, and leading to an overwhelmed mind-state.
Language note: I use chiral in the latin form, meaning “claw”. And yes, I do mean viscous.