Here I am, half asleep. The errors show through misspelled words, dead ends, confusion. I should be in bed. I’m not sure why I decided to wake up at 3 AM, with three hours of sleep, mostly spent tossing and turning, only to awake and wish I was still dreaming. But here I am– writing. I could be doing anything else, literally, but maybe this is better.
Perhaps this is progress, a sign that my efforts are not going without notice, but, that’s subject to change, as is everything else on this glorious, dependable, calculated spinning rock.
I speak to myself when I write these things. The intention is often to reread and go through it again a few times. Often it’s kept somewhere in my notepad, rarely is it meant for your eyes, though somehow it still makes its way onto the internet and into your gaze.
But time, this elusive thing, always slipping from my grasp, is finding its way further away from me.
Still, I hope tomorrow will go well. Some days are a decided at random, the flip of a coin, a descend into chaos. And somehow I am expected to keep my head held high, balanced, and resilient through the fog and confusion that washes over me. My days are split into two modes: disorder and heaven. Both remain a mystery I wrestle to understand. Each day is spent in battle with what I’m told is the proper way to live.
Keep The Momentum
I spend my time reading. In my opinion, this is time well spent. The other option is a neverending decent into Instagram and Youtube. Deep down, I’d much rather do both.
The problem is, my belt is too tight. I’ve eaten too much in the comfort of my girlfriend’s house. Recently, I’ve discovered that we’ve come to an unspoken agreement to eat whatever we desire, as long as it looks and sounds good. We’ve labeled this physically altering phenomenon as “happy weight.”
Despite my obvious contentment, I summon all the willpower my plump belly can supply and decide I’ll exercise for an hour.
So I step outside in an embarrassing attempt to propel myself into a brisk walk. The sun is lava on an average day in Florida, and today we’re approaching a record high temperature. I’m already sweating and I’ve only just reached the end of the driveway, my scalp itches, and with each step, I can almost guarantee that my skin is melting off like frosting on a freshly baked cake.
What has my life become?
Defeated, humiliated, and between you and me, slightly excited for what could be my next move, I turn back and face the driveway I have recently conquered and, in my head, shuffle between the few options I hold: I could continue forward and find a breeze of cool air welcome me the moment I return home and forget I was ever outside or I could be a man of my word and continue the momentum forward, further down the neighborhood sidewalk.
“You never change your life until you step out of your comfort zone; change begins at the end of your comfort zone.”Roy t. Bennett
Two Years Later
I have yet to make a decision.