Titles are overrated Anyway.

Awkward:

Put on sweats and it takes you an hour and a half to realize they are backwards.

Switch laundry at work, start the washers and forget the dryers.

Broken: 

Hearts, glass, and shades of gray, etcetera.

Defeated:

That person, in that country, who I'm definitely not thinking about.

Why the heck do I do this to myself?

Relieved:

The minute after a 12 hour night shift has ended.

When you finally finish that last mile, sweat glistening, music blasting.

Odd: 

Your room is a quiet haven.

I wish that just for now I could sleep. 

Thought-full: 

Wondering who is real, and who is fake.

Does she even care about who I am, really?

What? 

Ok.