Stress is

stress is productive procrastination

a shelf full of half-read books

a half-life hardly worth living

not enjoying a given moment

fingers in all the pies

an arm in the future.

holding yourself to impossible standards 

no praise

no love of the self

multi-tasking,

mind drifting

doing too much and not enough

all at once

ugly jealousy

spite

your friends are doing so much

more

being what you were supposed to be

another birthday,

another year wasted

analysing every minute,

every hour you lost

every coin you impulsively spent

it will tear you limb from limb

stress is ambivalence 

driving without your eyes open

no control of the wheel (is this even your car?)

you never know whether you're on the right track,

you have the right map,

to guide you from A to B.

and once you've figured out A and B,

then what is C?

it may be just 

a cloud of dust.