I wish I could compose an angsty or Regina Spektor-ish (outlandishly brilliant) song out of the half-thoughts and almost-emotions that are running amok in my head right now. But words, as usual, fail me.
I wish I could stop. Everything. Bad health. Anxieties. Anticipations. Packing. Introspection. Reading.
I want to curl into a ball and fast forward to the bit where fun things are happening. Where future isn't uncertain. Where blue birds fly. Etc.