I am not who I want to be.

 I wake up every day, knowing what it is that I want to do, and still do nothing about it. I go to bed at night with the same regrets that I have carried with me an entire lifetime. I think about my situation, my situation-ships, my situation-nality, whatever the situation is and ponder on what I can do to change it/everything and I feel so overwhelmed. Getting stoned takes some of that wonder away, but I get lost in the haze of "who gives a fuck" and I bounce back and forth between the voices in my head that tell me what I should be doing. And the voices talk all of the time. The voice in my head, the one that I have grown with, is kind of a dick. He loves to fill my head with fear. He triggers my body with anxieties that make me skittish of the stupidest things. He even tries to command the things that come out of my head in a simple journal entry in order to distract me from things that are weighing heavily on me at the moment. 

I've not been a good person to anyone, let alone myself. Words being words, are worth a pound of manure if they're not followed with action. I find the lack of action to be my strongest suit, because if all else fails, then I can't be blamed for not trying. I still want to run away. I want to fill my tank and drive to the ocean and feel the waves kiss my feet as the sand below them slowly melts away with the ebbing tide. I want to smell the ocean in the air and see the sun behind the clouds of a mildly overcast day. I want to see the trees in the mountains during a blissful rainstorm. Darkened clouds letting loose all of natures cyclical condensation amongst a backdrop of dark green pine trees, crowded over an endless highway on my way to no where in particular. My fanatical thoughts get in the way of my realistic opportunities and all I can do is get lost in a sea of wishes and regrets, waking up to another 9-5 work day, hoping that the voice in my head will take the day off and let me get by.

I alone am the only one who can help me. 

I don't know how to do the things that I really want to do, but I am reassured daily, that I am the only one who can help me. I can either shit or get off the pot. And for the most part, I have been confused on which is the worse of the two. Do it or don't, but stop talking about it. I want to be sure that I do the right thing, for all the right reasons. But I feel that mortality will win over, regardless of what decisions I make. (There he is folks, the man in my head)...

I am not the man I want to be. I chase things that do not work for me. I abide by the kindness that others show me and sometimes feel selfish for not reciprocating or offering up more in return. If things were things and I could feel no emotional attachment to them, I think that I would be better off to take a running leap off into the unknown. Picture it like Buffy, jumping into the abyss. Except, I won't be saving the world and who knows where the abyss would take me. What I am confident in knowing is this, there are breadcrumbs leading to the place I want to be. Right now I am sitting at a rest stop, comfortably indulging in more than my fair share in order to plan out which trail of breadcrumbs to follow next. I sniff out the attention of strangers. My ears twitch back and forth on voices coming from directions behind me. I wonder if what I am doing is right and if the direction that I am heading is correct.  

I want to love the people that I have in my life, but I want to limit the interactions that they have in my life. Without sounding like a complete asshole, I want to be part of creating a memory, but I don't want to be the odd man out if that memory is just a sideline hustle to someone else's story. I often forget that I am a character in the entire story and not just comic relief when needed. I am reminded by people who matter, that I do not matter. I am perplexed by that notion that I do not matter, because on one hand...no, I don't matter in the long run when it comes to most things. I have nothing. I am nothing to no one. And I should understand more when folks say things like "I'm not worried about you, because you are not what matters." And if I don't matter, then it shouldn't make a difference where or when I choose to get up and go. I am the maker of my own path. I am grateful for the little things and for blank opportunities, but I am ultimately the only one who has to power to matter to myself. Even if people don't see me in their entire picture. 

I should mean more than I do when I am living in the present.