Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Stretching Out

The not knowing is what can drive a man crazy. Okay maybe it's just this man. So many are comfortable, relish, the not knowing. I'm stuck in neutral. Not going forward. Hopefully not going backward, so there's a plus.

Stretching my muscles, before I begin this new stroll in life. I do have my shoes tied and my socks pulled up, and I don't want to pull a muscle. Heavens no I don't want to do that.

I'm sure there's a few folk reading theses posts (Hi Sis!) wondering what I am writing about. I'd love to give you an answer, other than the best answer.

I am writing. And sharing the goop. Which is exactly what I needed to do. Perhaps I am just standing in the corner like any other whore.......

LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME! I'm so special, you should all just look at me. But don't get too close. And don't look me in the eye. And don't talk to me or of me. Just look at me and bask at my specialness. Sure I sugar coat it in some dribble or some lesson or quaint little story about how you and I are alike, but really isn't this just some stroke piece. The Look at Bitter Project!

No it isn't, but today it feels like that. I'm feeling anyway, which is a good thing. I checked in with world today and I just want to go further out in the desert, away from everyone, mostly myself. But I'm still here and I'm still sharing. So some part of me knows that running is a cowards choice, a choice I've made in the past and no longer serves me.

Sure I am a rambling bumbling incoherent mess, but it's me. Nothing clouding my thoughts but an Oreo or two and Camel.

I feel like whining and I am whining. Knowing how truly blessed I am, and yet I still whine. Painted myself in to a corner, but I do know I'm the guy holding the paint brush. And who cares if I step on the painted floor? Me and only me. I am ready to walk on the paint. Leave my footprints. Isn't that what everyone wants? To create and leave your mark. That's what I want anyway.

I'm just afraid.

Rambling on........

No comments:

Post a Comment