Thursday, February 10, 2011

M E T A M O R P H O S I S

It was never enough to accept things on an even winning keel, as it was always the challenge that was the high that I would get when searching for the goal post. After I crossed the line I would turn around and virtually always wonder what the big deal was in the beginning to get where I thought I needed to be. The ultimate challenge was the vision of the end and all the joy that would emanate from the finale, always appeared in the form of odd disappointment as the reality of the end was not at all what I expected it to be in the first place. It seems that I have spent most of my days in the throws of goal worship. Time and time again I reach them and they always seem eerily disappointing, as if I missed something along the route on the highway towards success. I always had the knack to plan and aim high and had what seemed to be the most direct route to a calm and peaceful existence. Yet at this moment of time and space I feel myself most disconnected and lost within my brainwaves that seemed to be misfiring.

As I start to rearrange my physical locale, I have the weirdest feeling that something is amiss and I cannot put my finger on what it is. The ultimate fantasy is to just put together a few things, put my dog in the car and just drive to places unknown in hopes of finding the new ME along the highways untraveled. The repetitive patterns of life at this time are an irritant that I can't seem to dismiss. It is like treading water and never getting to shore and there are no life jacket's readily available. The actuality of sink or swim resonates within my core being and screams silently inside my head to just let go and see what happens. Of course that would entail letting go of control and as much as I try to release that demon it still rears it's manipulative head and demands attention. Although not near as frequent as it once was, but it is still lurking around every endeavor or idea that seems to populate my mind at the moment.

I can remember a time when all seemed right for the taking and every turn beheld a new plan of attack. Now it seems that the person that I used to feel inside has left the building and has left no forwarding address to where I may reach him. I want to make trivial excuses as to why I feel like this, but they don't really explain anything. The mundane answers are just the common approach to satisfying the pain but does nothing to dissolve it. The bridges that need to be crossed seem distant and void but the urge to hunt for them is sadly waning.
It has been a long and most arduous journey the last couple of years and my gas tank is now reading "empty". I have sidestepped many pending disasters, worked myself out of the joy that once was called JOB, and peeled off the last layer that once kept my patience from getting lost. Now here I sit and write this oozing scenario and face the facts that life is not handing out candy and roses to me and I am mad at the changes that have been forced upon me. It is causing undue emotional harm and has splintered me into unrecognizable human flotsam. All those sharded pieces madly searching to reunite to form the ragged personality that I now feel houses within my physical being. My tears are fears of the unknown and my ducts are reaching an arid condition in the desert of uncertainty.
What does this all mean? I have absolutley no idea. Perhaps it is the physical pain that comes with maturity and recognition of needing a life change. I just can't come up with another reason other than seasonal "defective" disorder. Any change of life is certain to bring about discord with any impending METAMORPHOSIS.

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