Lately, my life has been full of counting. counting hours until work is over, counting bad relationship I had in the past that nothing seems last! (holly crap! love department seems so cruel and rude to me! ) counting the money I spend on things I need (and a lot of things I don’t), counting the days till my birthday.
Sometimes counting calms me down, makes me feel life is like a nice warm apple pie. Divided into four equal manageable slices and inherently surprise by virtue of its crust. It has an element of entertainment in every slice. But sometimes it fills me with anxiety and dread, as if every good thing was running out of time and every bad things was rushing towards me.
I wonder when I’ll stop counting.
I wonder when I’ll be able to loosen my grip on every little thing I do, and just live. I want my actions to be generous and deliberate, not hampered by second-guessing and impatience. I want to find something divine, some greater sense of liberating, driving purpose, without constantly stopping to consult every word of the fine print.
Life is good!