I feel over stimulated, yet under nourished, here. She patted her chest, as if her heart hurt.
Maybe you have to stop just accepting the rules, he whispered.
What? She looked up, her attention caught. If he had stated it loudly, she would have been angry.
You know, that it’s the information age and we need to be constantly plugging in, surfing for hours a day, answering and sending emails, making comments, commenting on comments . . . .
I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes. I am so tired, and I seem more behind than ever!
Behind what? There was only kindness in his question.
Behind in what I need to do, create, broadcast, write, propose . . . She could hear the desperation in her own voice.
Then stop. He said it so clearly.
Just like that? I’d be giving up. Everyone would forget about me if I didn’t keep reminding them I was there. Her eyes widened.
Maybe it’s time to test out that theory. Don’t you always tell me you are doing this for yourself, for your own enlightenment? He said it like a statement, not a question.
She grabbed her sweater. Do you want to go out for a run? No, make that a leisurely stroll.
Written All Over Her Face