Countdown

This trip isn't real. It's up close knocking and my insides are swollen by stress, instigated by things that have nothing to do with Thailand. My life is a countdown.

I've always lived like that, counting down. Days until the weekend, a midterm, a trip; long hours until Bryson gets home, or too-short hours until a looming shift. There's always something to wait for, to worry about. And there's always hordes of things that nag and pinch, crammed into the time in between.