Waiting

Returning tomorrow. The worries of daily life will have to be faced and followed through. I do not feel ready, but am  nevertheless excited by the responsibility, the opportunity to fulfill independence. I am nervous, my heart beats faster. How have I become so weak? I am not weak. I feel weak. It is an ugly word which I despise. Vera Sinai. Sara Sinai. A proper pen name is need, though I like my name. I like Sinai, though it’s not of my culture. I like a lot of things though they’re not of my culture, per se. I I I, me me me. All I write about. My hand is shaking. My insides are shaking. Quaking. From fear, from french toast, from the weight of all things, past and future. The present seems unreachable, though it’s the only real element of life. The past and future do not exist. A slightly odd notion, isn’t it? They are gone and not yet arrived. Time goes into my mouth and is obliterated into memory. I eat the days continuously, we all do. Fear is a story we tell ourselves. Fear is not real. I will be well functioning at home. I need not worry about finances or otherwise. I will find a job. I will find what I need.