Sometimes I just feel like I am barely treading. I have all the answers and know everything I am supposed to do but find myself sinking, no matter how many life preservers are stored under my armpits. I keep thinking I’m running forward but in reality I am just moving on a treadmill and the floor keeps moving faster.
I see the man I want to come, but sometimes I just can’t swallow the work. Don’t get me wrong, I work; I work daily. And I have it planned out to do exactly what I need to do, and sometimes go further. but what the actually fuck? I mean the toughest thing to do is to chase this fantastic dream without any gratification coming.
The more I pursue this dream, the more I realize that the long play is important, but it’s more difficult by the day if you don’t reach smaller goals. Those are the blocks that build the skyscraper. Without the smiles and the relief that small accomplishments bring you just circulate in your own shit, hoping that one day it will drain out the floor, vent out the ceiling, and leave you with the garden of a thousand fertilized suns.
Sometimes I just pull my hair, hoping my brain will come out so I can ask it a few questions about what the next move is. Like I know I am going to come across it eventually. Based on probability if I work towards it daily the roulette wheel will spin in my favor. But aren’t we all looking to jump the odds? Overdose on luck to become the next Suzanne Collins, or Veronica Roth, to soak in the sun while we are still young enough to be reckless? That’s what i want. To be relevant while I can still be reckless. To become a role model eventually, after taking in some of the perks that selfishness can satisfy. Perhaps I am wrong for saying that. To be honest, I don’t know how true it is. I tell myself that same lie daily to give myself a more concrete vision in my fantasies than simply changing the world.
It’s a funny world we live in, where trends often leave us scratching our heads and asking why not us? These people we worship usually aren’t possessing a super power we couldn’t unlock or don’t already have and often times they are accomplishing goals we do before we pour our morning coffee. On the walk around the block today I met four people who could deserve fame more than my Facebook trends page, but will most likely never achieve it. Then I try and convince myself I’m different because I’ve published some shitty poetry and write a shitty blog that no one fucking reads.Yeah, a real fucking hero downing four Jamesons before bed and thinking about having a fifth before brushing my teeth and calling it a night.
Meanwhile I just stare at the computer knowing what I have to do. Convincing myself what I’m doing is enough, when in reality it’s still human. If I want to really stand out I have to be more than that; be more than human. And that thought scares me. Because I know the amount of work I will have to put in. It’s fucking terrifying. It will be hard. It will make me want to quit and will make me question everything I have done and will do. Yet it’s the only way. Am I more afraid of success than failure?
Sometimes I don’t even know if I want the answers. Sometimes I wonder if ignorance is actually bliss. If I could kiss amnesia and see the world anew just to praise the new day.
Sometimes. Just sometimes.