Maybe it’s not about having everything figured out.
Maybe the key to being free is embracing the uncertaintly of my life.
I keep struggling to figure everything out and maybe by doing that I’m not allowing myself the experiences that could make me richer. Instead of enjoying my job I worry about whether it will be here in a year. Instead of getting on with my life with J I’m worrying about divorce and my history in a marriage, which over and I something I can’t (and don’t need to) change.
I want more. I want all those things I dream about and yet I’m afraid to embrace the changes that will take me there. It seems so much safer to ponder about them from my comfortable state of seclusion and isolation. It’s easier to feed off of dreams than to achieve them but I’m still not satiated.
There is a great example of this fucked up mentality sitting in a hospital bed in Virginia…that’s where I’ll be if I take the easiest path available to me. He’s so alone, with no one to talk to except the memories of what was and what could have been. I dread the thought that it could me there in his place…with nothing but 4 walls and a TV, his only companions are the cigarettes that have tethered him to his bed.
He lives with the knowledge that it’s his fault. I hear him cry and curse himself and I want to make it better for him but in reality there is nothing I can do to help him because he’s wasted his life…and as we all know you can’t correct mistakes of the past. I hear his remorse and sadness every time I speak with him. He’s finally figured out what was most important to him…only when it’s too late to do anything about it and he never got what he wanted.