I'm completely drained and ready for bed. It was a good day with lots of little happy moments throughout, so I'm fine with the exhaustion. I know my bed is waiting oh so patiently for me and I cannot wait for my head to hit the pillow.
This busy schedule I've created for myself has proved to be interesting, albeit with drawbacks. I miss seeing friends regularly, for one. The physical exertion can really take the excitement out of some things, though I'm not entirely sure how exciting those things would be anyway when I think about it. And of course, there would be the occasional almost incoherent things I mutter out loud when I can no longer keep my thoughts clear. All par for the course with keeping oneself on the go, which is what I can't seem to stop myself from ensuring lately. Go, go, go, but when my ass hits the couch and I prop my feet up, that's when I feel it — a crazy amount of life lived in a short period of time.
I don't bother getting bogged down with the 'hows' and the 'whens' of each and every day, because clearly, I have managed to keep getting shit done this far, so it isn't likely to change anytime soon. Headlong into whatever the day brings, that's the spirit. This is how I live and I'll give it up when I die. Until then, I'll keep tuckering myself out, so each and every night I sleep well knowing I gave the day my absolute all.
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