To Be Worthy
I seem to be in the habit of taking on way too much. Looking back, I think I've always been this way. What is odd to me, though, is that I always compare myself to others who seem to stay much busier. I constantly long to be like that. It's seen as some rare form of stamina and determination. I covet that. I really do. No matter how hard I work, I always think I could do more. I've never sat back and decided I've done enough. I will look at the doers of the world and think I want to be like them. I am jealous of their limitless energy.

Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of what others see in me. Perhaps, I am a little bit of that person I've always wanted to be. I've been holding down three jobs, which I am quick to dismiss because my hours vary greatly. Lately, working out has felt like a fourth job. I'm fighting each day to fit something in. I think I might be exhausted too.

When I was younger, I cheered competitively for a team, took gymnastics, and then mixed that with track one year (swearing off that wretched "sport" for life), but then I replaced it with cheering for another school. I vividly remember passing out at every spare ten minutes that I had. My mother would tell me to "just rest for a minute," and within seconds, I was sound asleep. I feel like that now. If I get to work twenty minutes early, I will pass out in my car. My lunch breaks are scheduled to accommodate a ten-thirty minute nap.

There is never enough time. I know this, but I constantly challenge and push it. I wiggle within the constraints to find more allowance. I will make time. I stay determined even though the pressure is bending my bones. I just hope that some day all this pushing is worth something. In the end, I hope there is a measurement that tells me I measure up, and I did more than most. I don't want to know that I wasted it, any moment of it.


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