Just a few thoughts.

I only seem to write when I am inspired. And unfortunately that seems to happen less and less these days. 

But I guess like writing (and anything else) it gets better with practice, or letting it consume you. I’ve always been told that if I’m not doing something it’s because I don’t want it bad enough. 

Ironically I usually get what I want in the end, which I guess is a good thing because there are A LOT of things that I want. Not only for personal gain mind you, but to have a great sense of self worth. I mean why do we try and achieve anything? 

Recognition? Fame? Fortune? 

All of those things can be awesome, but at what point is what that consumes you something that you need to be consumed by. Are we all supposed to be chasing what we want? Is what we want what we need?

Those are all great questions. Hell I’ve been asking questions all my life. Most of my questions go unanswered which I guess isn’t as bad as it could be. I just have a daily need/want to be better. To be more than what I am now, and each day I grow more and more terrified that I will amount to nothing in my life. As bleak as that sounds I guess it’s a little realistic. There is a good chance I could end up completely alone, away from everyone, forgotten, and destitute. 

As much as I hate my procrastination, and my ability to blame everything and everyone else for my own problems, I still haven’t realized that I am the only one that can do anything about it… 

Sounds self defeating and narcissistic right? Maybe, but I honestly have a lot of apathy when it comes to those feelings.

All I know is I want something, and it’s not what you may think, some days I’m not even sure what I want. 

Maybe if one day I woke up and was rich beyond my wildest dreams then I would know. Not to worry about money or anything like that, not to worry that people I care about may go without, but to have security… 

But then again caring about something as trivial as money is somewhat foolish. I mean when you die you take nothing with you. We all end up butt naked on a table, cut open and pumped with chemicals to preserve this disgusting husk that we carry around daily.

Maybe in the end it will all make sense. Once we are gone maybe we can finally have some perspective in life.

Having people close to me slowly waste away has gotten me thinking that nothing is eternal, and that we are supposed to use EVERY moment of EVERY day, because if we don’t then we have nothing to leave behind, but if we can’t take anything with us, isn’t the only thing we are taking with us something we never really had?

In case you didn’t know I was just writing to confuse you a bit. If you are still reading this, then bully for you. Because I stopped reading this about two paragraphs ago…

Kidding.

But seriously, I have a serious problem. I can’t quit, but I also can never, ever start. I have to start slowly, forget, remember, and start again. Maybe one day before it’s all said and done I will finally have that achievement I feel that I need in my life… That one… Thing.

Whatever it may be.