… Taps foots restlessly

I don’t know when I grew to be so impatient. I was never by any means a calm person, but I’m a middle child: I’m used to not having anything I wanted or the desired attention.  I learned how to wait for my turn and savor it when it came.

But of late, I’m so impatient. I get road rage when I’m in the slowest lane on the highway, banging frustratedly on the steering wheel of my poor little Nissan. I snap at people I once took the abuse of regularly. I’m far more impulsive than usual. No sooner than something is promised to me, I expect it to be fulfilled rather quickly.

I don’t know when I got to be so impatient. I’ve just finally articulated my goals and the timelines that I wish to accomplish these by, and suddenly I can’t wait. Life is going to slow. I’m dissatisfied and I get angry that I’m not there yet: stuck in the slow lane again.

My fuse is a lot shorter than I remember.

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