A couple of days ago I was reading through some of the blogs of people on the tour. It struck me that they were all so excited to be here, regardless of if it met their expectations. Every post was an enthusiastic recount of the day, filled with no shortage of wonder and awe. They’re seizing every opportunity, taking everything in, seeing everything that is new and unfamiliar in the light of fascination and mystery, as something wondrous and exciting.
This is how pre-life fail me would be.
Post-life fail me is exactly the opposite. This self is cowering in a corner, ashamed that this part can’t be found, can’t be summoned from somewhere within, and sad due to being cognizant of the fact that it’s missing out, yet still unable to stay focused and present.
Waking up is hard; getting out of bed harder.
Going through the motions of the day is exhausting; being around people is more exhausting.
Living has become a constant struggle.
Who is this foreigner?
And how long is she planning on staying?