The Struggle Within

I'm fitting into me. Head shifted down and heavy steps of "an athlete." This gut feeling pulls and nags. What kind of hell awaits me. The order is set to seek and destroy. I can't decide if I want to be the bigger person or stand up for myself and fight. I want the rain outside my window to pour down on me. But every time I step outside, the sky clears, and I'm left dry. Thick dark clouds crawl over the mountains and for a minute I remember where I am. You don't define me. I stuck around to see if I would ever receive all the things that she claimed to give everyone else. The day never came. Just the fading of old paper... and colors bleeding from the heat. So I set out to find meaning. To move before I get bored. To find something to give my existence a little more worth. Consuming minutes and hours and days with those who demonstrate caring. Making beats and harmonies and visual treats for laughs. Forget vanity, this is a fight with self-acceptance. I never really know who's winning.

Some days I'm overly-excited and ready to charge through snarling bitches. Other days I'm dreading the inevitable big comedown. Will I be ready?

Spending time and money to fly far away from here. Determined to take a break from nothingness, yet terrified of my patience being tested. And the thick foaming green that will flood my eyes. And praying that it doesn't turn red. I will deflate myself if I become the third wheel. And fall away, far back into the avoidance course. Expecting rude threats, being stranded, and purposely pushed buttons. Yet I fight for a good time and a nice vacation. Would they allow it. Illinois has never been kind to me, why would it start now.

I don't care what zen-fucked peaceful philosophy you spew. Life is a never ending To Do list.