I’ll start like this; I don’t know what I want, exactly. I don’t know what I feel either, at least not fully. Nevertheless, I am still going to try to explain myself.
When I think about what I envision for the rest of my life, what I have envisioned in the past, a plethora of things come to mind. A sea of dreams falls from the sky and drowns me.
I remember all I’ve felt when I have pinned to know what I am here for. What is my purpose? What is my occupation? What should I try to accomplish while I am still alive? For some reason, these things have been driven into my mind, and rule my life. For years these questions loomed overhead and paralyzed me completely. Still, I am having a hard time becoming mobile in my quest for answers.
There are parts of me so thirsty for attention, aspects of my heart and soul starving for completion. Parts of me held through childhood till this very moment.
My hands seek ink and purpose.
My mind is in the endless pursuit to find anything that satisfies my heart’s desire. And what my heart desires most of all is freedom. Still my heart cradles my ego, and my ego and mind devise a plan to find the perfect occupation to ease my bleeding heart.
Ideas bubble, pop, and dissipate. I want to save the children, feed the planet. I want to change the system, write a book and teach a thirty-year-old man to read. I want to write a play, play the bongos, and direct a film.
On top of all that, my ego thinks I should do all of these things professionally. While my mind knows this isn’t possible, my heart weeps. My ego burns.
This leaves me to the sad reality of life. This reality being that not only can you not actually choose what you inevitably “do” for the rest of your life, but you can’t even really attempt all that you want to in your life-span, at least not if you are me or any other extremely indecisive & creative person.
Essentially, this notion has fucked me up and continues to do. I’ve decided to basically attempt what I can, while I can. And in the ugly process do my best to follow my greedy heart, and hope to fucking Christ that eventually something will click.
And by click I mean, feel right for once and make me happy. Oh and fucking makes me money while I do it.
The truth is I’m a writer, I want to be a writer forever. I don’t think there is a lot of money in that. At this juncture of my life, I have decided to never stop trying, even if people only like my work after I’m dead.
May as will drive my pen into a screen and take what bit of success I might be lucky enough to attain.
When you figure out what you want to do with your life, you must devise a plan that you are willing to fail in order to find YOUR life.