Reflection

The end of the semester grows nearer by the hour.
With every minute that ticks by she ponders her decisions.
From the simple to the complex, all of her thoughts are being processed at once.
It's all happening so fast that when the cogs catch on one another, at first,
she doesn't notice.
The pressure builds until she is forced to recognize traffic jam inside her head.
In an attempt to maintain composure and appear strong she bottles everything up.

This has become customary throughout the years.
Her own way of "dealing," even though nothing is really ever dealt with.
Like a car going without an oil change for too long,
the gears of her mind must fight through blockage and buildup.

In order to flush away what impedes her thinking machine
she must confront all of the bottles she's stowed away.
Is she ready? No.
Does she want to? No.
Are her cerebral shelves overcome with the weight of theses bottles and build up? Yes.
As she contemplates this late into the evening she longs for a world in which
she could escape herself.