I’ve got this first-world rain cloud that I keep standing under. I feel like there is some sort of metaphorical infection living in my body and my immune system just can’t quite shake it. I want to be fine. I really do. But it seems like I just can’t get ahead. So I keep treading water when I should be swimming the English channel. And I don’t know who to blame. Myself for not training or the channel for being so damn wide.
And I don’t know why it bothers me that these words of mine are tripping and unwieldy where they should be witty and dancing. I should be funny, self-sufficient, and confident. I should be beautiful and compassionate and lofty. I should be so many things. But I never take the helm. And then I wonder why life leaves me the first mate.
Maybe I should work harder. Maybe I should care less. Maybe its all up to me. Or maybe nothing is. Maybe I could run away from it all, lose everything, and find myself. Maybe.