Introspection

I sit quietly with my face in my textbook, highlighter uncapped and poised above a page that my eyes are not reading. Instead, I stare unblinkingly at nothing, letting my eyes unfocus so that there is nothing to be seen but a blur of colors and ambiguous shapes in front of me.
I wonder if this will get easier.
If the waiting, the hoping, the planning, this tireless, endless pursuit..
if at some point I will feel like I've succeeded enough to allow myself a break.
I sip my chai tea, black and sugarless, and try not to care.
But willing yourself to not care about something that has become so entangled, so enmeshed in your psyche is
a futile attempt.
There are some feelings that fill you up,
dig their roots into your skin
and never let go.
They swell
and blow you over,
like wind and waves.
This is how I feel about my experience of life.
One day I was carefree, the next I was not.
I cannot define what changed or precipitated the metamorphosis,
I know only this:
That now I am driven to pursue this goal that beckons in the distance
And that the feeling, the desire, the need is so strongly ingrained upon my person that to resist is anathema.
And love, that glorious, elusive thing, seems so incongruous
With the unrelenting manner that I push myself,
That I sometimes am baffled at how others can love me.
Even though I love them all very dearly.
These are the thoughts in my head,
As I stare at the snow falling outside
And do not study for my midterm exams.