I have lots of faults and idiosyncrasies.
I do weird stuff sometimes.
I mess up a lot.
I’m a chronic procrastinator
and I get whiny (inside my head)
when I need to take care of household chores.
I’m afraid I won’t be as successful
as my critical mind tells me I need to be
in order to be happy.
I’m afraid I won’t ever escape the stories
of my critical mind.
Sometimes I think I don’t set
a good enough example for my children
or my yoga students.
After all of this honesty,
what could I tell you that I’m afraid to say?
I’m tired and nothing comes to mind, I’m afraid.
Maybe I’ll save that for another day.
As I mentioned in my poem, I have trouble with procrastination. I waited until the last moment to write this post, and now I’m too tired to dredge up a line that scares me to write, as the NaPoWriMo prompt for today suggested. Ah, whateva, whateva, I do what I want, I do what I want.