There are days when I wish I was just a character in a book. Where life could simply be put on pause when you placed a bookmark in its place and that every problem would easily resolve itself in the end. Or at least in the end of the series. A happily ever after, or at least something of that semblance.
I don't know how to really explain it. I just feel so... so... I don't know. Like everything isn't quite falling in to place. Like soggy wet puzzle pieces. All the pieces are there, all look as they fit, but some pieces had been dropped in a puddle and when they dried became expanded and warped to don't fit just right. Something always feels like it's a little off.
I know it's just my mind playing tricks on me again, but it's still frustrating. I know it's there, but I just don't know how to fix it. You'd think after so many years of the same loop playing over and over in your life, you would have figured it out by now. Such is not the case. I know there is something wrong in there, in the back of my mind, that makes me feel this way. I know that being pregnant makes it more prominent and I know that it's a task to try and deal and/or suppress the feelings. And I have to. I'm not a teenager anymore. I have responsibilities that I have to keep a close eye on. One is still growing in my womb, and the other is sitting next to me shoving bologna in her mouth while sticking pencils between her toes.
*sigh* It's just hormones, I bet. I just can't seem to shake this feeling off long enough.