It still surprises me that once you start doing the simple things, the harder things get simpler. I am sure its all just my perception as I let things build up, and then reality hits. Things I thought I were simple are in fact a lot harder, so my to do list constants shifts like my emotions. Each time, I think I am on the right path, I am actually in the middle of the intersections about to get run over by reckless drivers of fate/inevitability.
Each time, I brush off the dust (or think that I do) and begin at the foundations , it turns its made out of quicksand, and I sink deeper and deeper into inaction. For each thought, there is a plan but no action. And maybe its the opposite, there is an action but no plan, and so go my days.
Some days I wonder if I know anything except bodily functions, and in other moments I feel like my pen can solve the pending to do’s in my soul. Except, I end up back on this page, wondering incessantly when will it get better? When will I truly learn? When will I become the man I envisioned myself to be in high school? Or am I just a cup full of promises, and empty of any real decisions?
But still I write out the to do’s on a piece of paper, and I gaze at it and wonder if I cross out everything on that page, will I find the answers to my life? I keep asking, and my writing just looks at me, giving me no answers, and certainly no comfort.
All I have are these thoughts of mine, and lately some have managed to even make those feel childish and or worse whiny. Which they are but thats not the point. They still belong to me, and for that I wish some respect. One can always hope, cant they?