Face stained with confusion. Comprehension becomes routine. Being overwhelmed provides comfort. Moments of silence instil worry as rest feels unnatural. Undescribably dystopian. Why can’t  you take a break? I exist on my fingertips swiftly jabbing each key. I exist in the crease of my hand forming a tight knot, my pencil tightly gripped. I exist brooding at red markings of my mistakes. My existence is tension filled. I am where there  is no room to breathe. Fuelling me in an enclosed room  as water begins to fill. What keeps me going- is  going.  Why can’t  you just slow down? Why?  The anticipation of reward.  Fulfillment as I finish. Lingering in the loafing of my being. I yearn for it.  Relishing the moment of attainment. Where I belong is all where it leads up to. The burden, the pressure, the work load. To the comfort, the ease, the gratification. That is where I will be.  I am owned by my will to commit, possessed by the longing of completion. Attached to my grit. I belong to the process, the sacrifice, and the eventual tranquility of my culmination.