Catch Me if You Can

I've always been impatient. Rushed. Wanting to get there, wherever there was. I feel compelled to be the first one out the door; I hate to be the follower. I run to the end without even knowing what to recognize. I catch myself hurrying along even when I have the time to spare. I have agendas without the pressure of outside deadlines, which is okay because I'll impose deadlines regardless. Even my spontaneity falls to rigid expectations of myself.

I'm not sure where all this feigned pressure comes from. I suspect the root is deep.