I am split between three worlds. I live in three places. There is a fierce battle of my time, my mind, and my hands. Constantly, going, not a chance to rest. I am carefully torn. How long can I live like this? I'm not sure what to do, or where to turn. Balance at its worst. So much to keep up with and so much to lose. And some how, so far, I'm not lost. But soon, too soon, I'm going to unweave, and who will be there to tend to me with threads and sewing needles? Wish I could freeze time and take a breath. But since when does life take orders from us? When did we think we earned the right to take the wheel and drive?
I guess the one good thing for me is it's three. And three has always been my lucky number.