When Time stands still

It's amazing how heavy one feels when one has a lot of time on one's hands. As if Time itself were a physical burden to bear, like a large, uncomfortable stack of iron rods, poking and protruding and generally causing one a great state of distress.

Alright. I'll quit being deliberately obtuse about it and grudgingly admit that the 'one' in question is none other than yours truly.

I hate it. I absolutely hate it. Either I've suddenly been possessed by an alien form of maniac energy, or I simply have too many hours to do too little. And if that weren't bad enough, I'm also turning into a borderline insomniac.

If anyone out there is taking the effort to be concerned, don't be. It's just one of my many phases, like the waxing and waning of the moon. I must be 'this' in order to also be 'that' at some later point in time.

So then, if I know all of this already, why am I so perturbed? Because it's typical of me. Any other saner person would find pleasurable activities to occupy themselves with. But no, I couldn't possibly do that. It's probably a remnant of some homework-related guilt-complex I've been harboring since my childhood.

Sigh...And I'm supposed to be having the time of my life, since I'm an unattached twenty-something and what not. Whatever.

Moral of the story- when Time stands still, don't try to keep up with it.