There was a time when I didn’t stumble out of bed with furrowed brows and bleary eyes to angry sounds of ringing alarms.

I could wake up with a smile, watch the sun spread its glory over the earth, and say, what a beautiful day.

And I think I could’ve thought to myself, let’s have pancakes today, and I would’ve had ample time to make it happen. I would’ve had the capacity to look up the recipe, walk to the shop to get flour and eggs, make my pancakes, and even wonder: who else would like pancakes today? Who can I surprise with homemade breakfast? And their exclamations of joy would’ve made my day more than pancakes could ever have done. And I could be thankful with my whole heart.

Those days slipped past my fingers like fine sand on a pristine beach.

Nights grew longer,  kept up by words that needed three glances to make sense, and essays that beckoned to be written. Classes became dull as Cynicism stealthily crept in while tutors made excuses for disorganized schedules.

Shoulders inched up closer to my ears as I hunched over the increasingly dusty and greasy keyboard. Exasperation made its nest and laid eggs of Frustration, finally hatching into Restlessness. My breathing lungs no longer expanded to their fullest, and my heart shrunk in tandem with its twin sisters.

God, once the majestic being that required no thought to fall at His feet, that was so readily received and so freely shouted at the top of my voice, became entangled in practical tensions and ambitious concerns! Lost in a culture where He did not exist!

Streams of words became unstoppable waters, brewing storms in a complex mind of issues. How foolish to take everything upon feeble shoulders.

So I hit the red button. The one that brings everything to a standstill, allows you to pause and get your bearings once again.

As the whirrings of the machine die down. the still small voice can be heard again.

Relieve washes over. How could I have forgotten.

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