Tired. I am so tired. Drained. Exhausted by the heat. Suffocating in this humidity that feels like hot bath water the minute you step outside. Yet, it’s beautiful, the summer in Richmond. Lush and green. Alive. If you listen close enough early in the morning, you can almost hear the earth moving beneath your feet with all kinds of living, breathing things…

I am running out of time. Missing out on summer. There’s work. There’s always work that I can hardly bring myself to do. I don’t want to do any more of it. No more closings. Back to back closings, one after another. I’ve become so proficient that hardly have to put any effort. I’m merely biding my time. Wishing I was elsewhere. I’m tired and burnt out beyond all acceptable limits. The rush of adrenaline that kept me going for the whole past year is sizzling down, and all I seem to want to do these days is stay in, sleep in, go for runs, take naps in the afternoons, go to Shakoe Bottom and hang out at Café Gutenberg. Write. Read. Find the Doris Lessing passage. Sort through my illegible notebook scribbling. Simply sit there and breathe… There’s never enough of that quiet time. Breathing time. When you simply shut out all the noise and let yourself be. Present and aware in every passing moment…

I will be working until the very last day. I wanted it this way, although now I wish I hadn’t. I thought that if I keep myself busy until the very last moment, distract myself with work that soon will no longer matter, I will keep the sad and overwhelming feelings at bay… I gave myself only a day to pack, a day to travel, another day to get settled until school starts. I thought it’s better that way anyway. Now I wish I had given myself a little more time. To simply rest. And breathe. And marvel at the thought of just how happy I am at this point regardless all the sad and overwhelming feelings.