a made up word that should be an entry on WebMD.
my mind unable to sit still, like a child in time out.
i wish i could diagnose myself
but i don’t have the credentials to do that.
i’m just tired, tired, tired…
but only when i have to lesson plan.
give me a weekend away, sleepy mornings in a cabin, and i’ll move mountains.
productivity soaring all the way to the moon.
but force me to sit on the couch and dare to tell me i have another paper to write, and i’ll crumple up like a dried flower.
two short pages will take 36 hours to compose.
my words sticky and sweet like the coffee i drink to stay awake.
in 29 days i’ll be free and i’ll bake myself a cake.
a cake that tastes like tassels, and diplomas, and new beginnings.
(in reality, it will taste like chocolate with buttercream frosting)
but for now, i struggle.
trudging five days a week to teach students that don’t listen, and like to talk over math problems and Bible lessons.
students that roll their eyes, and mock me as i pour my heart out about respect.
students that write stories where i portray the villain because i wouldn’t let them get a drink during instructional time, and forced them to put away the toys they decided to bring from home.
(i’m really the worst)
transforming their desks into bunkers: protecting them from words like “eyes up here,” “listen,” and “work in groups.”
snow days have preserved my sanity.
i attempt to treat myself with Netflix, but the deadlines still loom overhead like vultures.
taunting me, and reminding me that i am still a procrastinator.
making me sick and anxious for the 8th of May.
in 29 days, i’ll be free.
in 29 days, i’ll be cured.