Stuck Pig

I'm not as much now, but was spiraling.

Making myself indispensable now so that I really screw 'em when I go.

You will miss me when I'm gone.

Perma-smile.

My face aches.  My heart leaps and screams, several times a day.

Lunges against the bars of its cage, yelling and spitting.

You will miss me when I'm gone.

Or you won't, and you know what?  Fuck you.

There are millions of people that would miss me when I'm gone.

There are at least five.

So now, not spiraling, but still.  Exhausted.

Look at job postings and know I could do it, but do I want to?

I was never meant to be in business.  

I am arrogant.   Saw stupid people above me, doing things I could do.

So I did them.  So I stood in front of those who needed and said, you need ME.  

I can do this.

But what I always wanted to do was be whacked out, writing.

Writing from the very lining of my soul, writing when my mind left me and all I had was talent that came from nowhere and shocked me, words that thrilled me and a narrative voice that satisfied the very wild and dangerous soul of me.

I did all this, almost as if on a dare.

Never wanted to.  Never set out to. 

Just had the ability and so flexed it.  

So here I am, crossroads between should and want.

I want to choose a life that rewards me.  One that nourishes my soul and my fiercely competitive nature.  But means something in this world of financial statements and profit margins, things which I've never cared much about.  Take your FFO and ssssssmoke it.

It is about the purpose.

It used to be about the art.

I was a wondering, docile baby.

I was an awkward, curious kid.

I was a voracious reader, quiet, lost in my books, never spoke, never had friends.

I was an angry, stifled teenager.

I was a wild and recklessly daring young adult.  

I wanted.  I wanted.

I frightened people with it.   

I have been an intensely irritable adult.  

I missed something.

I listened when I should have ignored, I followed when I should have struck out alone.

If there is ever a time to make amends, this is it.

I finally listened to my heart and married the embodiment of my desires.

Now I have a man who lives like I've always wanted to, and yet I try to mold us both into a perception of what SHOULD BE.  Where we should be, what we should have.

I repeat to myself:  Choose life, take a chance, do it do it do it do it.

I drive to and from the thing I detest and I think:  Choose life, decide to be happy.  

Someone doesn't yield and I honk briefly, then forget about it.  

Stop being afraid.  Walk away from the money that comes with being unhappy and choose your own life.  

Do it.

Do it do it do it do it do it.