I am so tired.
This weekend, sitting, staring at the snow-covered storm pond bordering the backyard of my Brampton home, I was conscious of a great weight. It draped me. Entombed me. And I – I did not want to continue.
It is tempting to ascribe this state of being with my impending return to Waterloo. That I was unhappy to return to a life of classes, screaming colleagues and a silent, ne’er-do-anything housemate. But that’d be a lie. This wasn’t sadness. Nor dread. Or any other sharp, overwhelming, negative emotion. I simply wanted to stop.
I’ve been trying to ignore it for…well…it feels like forever. But I can’t deny its depth. Perhaps its the impermanence of my current situation. I’m living in transition. Living like a student, working like a student, but feeling markedly unlike one. Living with others, yet resenting having to return to a house that includes them. Somewhere, something inside’s moved on, while the rest of me remains.