...

I don't have anything in particular to say, I just feel like writing.
It's Wednesday, and I had Monday off. Yet somehow this has managed to be a hellish week. Too much work, too much pain, too much confusion.

My hand is healing nicely; on the surface it's little more than a pink line, and it only hurts now if I really strain my hand or put significant pressure on it. So, that's something good. I have to try to focus on the good... it seems that there are too many negative things competing for attention...

I suppose the primary cause of my stress is myself. Ultimately, I allow myself to be frustrated. I choose to wait too long and work too hard, hence my exhaustion. I let myself stress.

But life hasn't been doing me too many favors lately. My mother had surgery... again. I've been bitchy to my boyfriend, which I just feel awful about-- that's not life's fault, but it's a stress. I've had loads of work to do. It's strange how when I write down my stressors, they look so small and so few that I wonder why I bother being stressed about them. However, it's a lot less daunting to read loads of work than to read 4 Psychology Essays, 5 sketches, 2 Physics Labs, 4 Biology Reading Guides, 1 Biology Lab, 2 Faith Papers, US History Midterm Essay, Psychology Midterm, Advanced Pre-Calculus Midterm, Latin project (gigantic poster/sculpture), Roman Mythology Test, English Transcendentalism/Anti-Transcendentalism/Poetry Test, US History Objective Midterm, English Literature Midterm, Physics Midterm, Biology Midterm, Faith Midterm Project.
Hm... perhaps the stress is somewhat justified, then.

I feel as if I should now establish some important, controlling point and wrap this up with a simple, yet deep lesson about life.

Sorry.