Hasty Thoughts

Caught in a small loop of time
with people around to reach out for
I think hasty thoughts that hurt me
my black fingernails scratch

But after a moment it becomes plain:
I should ask

Could you give me,
could you give me,
could you give me some time of yours?

I admit: I wrote this on a bus. Going to work; from work to a lecture; then home to try and do something to make my thesis exist. That’s what my days look like lately, and that’s the reason why I’ve been posting rarely these last few months.

I’m busy, and I wish the week was at least one day longer!

In this little poem — it’s not even a poem! — I wanted to compress my recent thoughts about haste. Because haste has become an important part of my life, and it has been getting on my nerves on and off in the past few months. And the day before I wrote it I reflected that when I’m in a hurry, I revert to my (bad) old thinking habits like they’re the default setting.

And I lapse into doubt and think of how they’re gonna say good bye to me after my trial period, how I’ll do something and disappoint someone I care for, or how I’ll fail a class at the uni.

Then I start feeling all discouraged from trying to keep, nourish, and enjoy the awesome things that I have in life, and pessimistic about their future at my side.

An example of it: a few days ago I was thinking of quitting my job just because I didn’t pass an on-line course in the basics of LTE technology in one try. It didn’t make any sense because the course was difficult, and I could give it as many tries as I needed.

But it seems like spontaneous self-harm comes in whenever I don’t watch myself. So I worried, and put myself down, and worried some more, although I don’t actually want to hurt myself.

It’s the haste… perhaps with a dash of perfectionism, too.

It was good to figure that out.

It was also good that that day I came across a post published by my friend katerzyna, where she wrote about patience. It was just just what I needed to hear: All we need is… just a little patience.

Breathe deeply in and out, even if you live in a smoggy city like I do. Be patient. It’s true that all kinds of things may happen, but constant worry probably won’t prevent the bad ones, or speed up the good ones.

Another good conclusion I reached that day was that when we’re in haste and/or trouble, it’s really worth reaching out to other people for support.

In my case, this means asking for hugs, bothering people with questions, or making the poor devils listen when I want to tell a story e.g. about a rude woman on the bus.

And this is actually what I’m going to do now: promise you a story. Not the one about the rude lady on the bus — this one isn’t worth a blog post. Another one. Wait. Patiently. Till tomorrow.



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I'm an unprofessional writer, reader and translator. I'm also a walking, breathing and listening addict. And I love being all that.

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