Make no mistake; this is not a poem.

I know it could be worse. It always can be.
I know that it's all probably self-inflicted.
I know that it's probably PMS.

But I'm tired of working and not getting finished.
I'm tired of light bulbs blowing.
I'm tired of dragging soggy leaves onto the carpet.
I'm tired of being in the library
and hearing people text messaging
and the TAB and M not working on my keyboard
and someone sitting in my place.
I'm tired of the long line at the coffee shop.
I'm tired of detours.
I'm tired of too many pennies in my change purse.
I'm tired of all these little things,
even if they happen only once.

I know that the grass really isn't greener on the other side of right now.
I know that hindsight is 20/20.
I know that I will look back and sigh.
I know that what doesn't kill me makes me stronger.
I know that this too shall pass.
I know that I'm making a mountain out of a thousand little molehills.

But is it too much to ask to be bored?
To entertain whimsy,
To go out because I want to and because I can,
And not to worry that I'm screwing up my entire future
with five minutes of breathing easy?