trying not to fuck it up

it became i versus we. i, and then, maybe later, if there’s time, and my loans are paid off, we. it was stifling in its linearity, inanity, and insatiability. sisyphus comes to mind. there will always be another, better improved me out there. reaching it requires an infinite amount of time, and it eats it up whole. like a duck. no chewing. no savoring. just swallow.

i had to get out. there was no way i could stick around. when you wake up every morning and wonder how you can get out of working; when you look around your apartment and want to throw up at the amount of things you have not only accumulated but feel incapable of letting go of; when you are not motivated to be who you want to be; that’s when it’s time to go. i hit a wall; all i could do was turn.

life is too short to be… i wouldn’t call it unhappy, but unfulfilled. bored. and tired.

i’ve always fallen in love with every social service job i had. even after a vacation, i would go to bed with a smile thinking about all the things i had to do the next day and which clients i needed to see. the identities i created there were fulfilling, and i would often think of my kids and my heart would fill to bursting. this has been mainly true the last few years working in schools, but it was no longer enough to sustain me. and the public school system sucks really bad. i could not in good conscious continue working in that institution. it chokes the same people who resuscitate it. and my cpr certification expired years ago.

at some point, there stops being an “in the future, i will…” all of the sudden, you are in your future and you find yourself running out of time.

i only have the one chance. and i refuse to allow my biggest accomplishment to be that i earned enough money to buy a house (no offense). no way. not that i have a better answer, really. well, i do, but it still scares me.

and right now is not the time to think about what i would accomplish instead. right now, i just don’t want to have to accomplish anything.


About trying not to touch anything

living in a space where i am half packed, or half unpacked, depending on how you look at it; going somewhere else; wanting to write about my misadventures on a planet i don't feel like i should be on

One response to “trying not to fuck it up”

  1. Dasha says :

    More power to ya! Glad you’re on the travelin’ train/plane.

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