Message to self on a Sunday

I know I’m wasting my time. My drive is not like other people’s. How can it be? I’m no one else but myself. I live, create, am like no other. Except I’m not. I am in a drought period. I’ve lost myself and therefore find it hard to create. Ironically, in my work, I try to keep my ego out of it.

I’ve written 2 letters today. It took everything out of me. Every time I sit down to write a letter, it is taxing, not the act of writing itself, rather the give others news about myself. I am forced to look in the mirror and examine my life, myself. The good and the bad. The choices I’ve made. As if all of it needed to be written down. Trust me, it really does not.

I’m not where I want to be. Right now, I know I have to tough it out because it’s the responsible thing to do. But during it all, I have to continue to be. Am I just thinking of the end of this leg of my journey so that I am not enjoying it? I know I’d rather be somewhere else, but I am here now, so what’s so bad about being here right now? … Exactly. Nothing.

All that is tripping me up is thinking of when my time on this leg of my journey is over. But I can’t put my life on hold like that. That would be exactly what I’ve told a friend in the aforementioned letter. Sure, there is a mid-term plan, but until we get there, there’s now. Let’s not piss it all away.

And even though time doesn’t matter, let’s not waste any more.