But She Filled Out

I don't know where to take my life or what to do with it when I get there.  I have few years left to decide before I grow too old, too weak and too afraid to change.  That's what happens.  Aging is wonderfully fulfilling.  Not sure anymore if a change of scenery really has any bearing on my level of contentment.  Am I running?  Or hiding?  Perhaps I'm just a nuanced nomad at heart with a desire to see it all before I shuffle off this mortal cunty coil.  Switching towns doesn't seem to change who I am for I've concluded I'm still an angry asshole who gets sad sometimes.

Life seems so easy for some.  So difficult for others.  I know in the grand scheme of what is offered, I have it alright.  I'm just confused as to where to go from here.  My old way of answering these questions and moving forward is no longer working.  The paralysis I feel is from the chest down.  How do I know which path to take now?  Do I settle in to what I've known?  Go back to what I've done before?  Try out a bunch of new shit, potentially wasting countless hours and money?  I suppose either way that's an all encompassing statement for life:  The potential to waste countless hours and money.  Days off aren't providing any form of relaxation.  I just sit in a tense little ball on my bed, thinking myself to death with tears spilling down over my already salty cheeks.  I wake from sleep with similar thoughts so not even sweet sweet slumber which I treasure so is permitting me release.

Life used to seem so simple when I felt like I had endless amounts of time to spare.  Now I feel the clock everyday dictating the rules, formulating the end.  So what do I want?  Why is it so very hard to know?  I use to know, or thought I knew.  Thirteen years later, i don't know anymore.  What I thought I knew is known and now I just don't fucking know.  Perhaps the lesson here is we never really do.  Plug away and grind on.  Touch a life here or there with your comedic hostility and turn to dust.  I can't tell if I'm thinking far too big or far too small.  Am I distracting my cells with needless torment to detract from the second hand?  I don't dream about untold mysteries or of things to come or even of flying anymore.  I use to have flying dreams.  Even my subconscious is bored with my decision-making.  Or lack there of.  It took me two hours yesterday to decide how to get out of Queensborough.  Trust me when I tell you, Queensborough is exceedingly easy to get out of.  I'm trying to follow so many different paths, I've forgotten how to make my own.  That's it!  I want to make my own.  I want to lead a group, not follow behind blind to the battles at bay.  I want to affect change not be privy to its whim.  I want to blaze a trail so bright that people for years to come could bask in its afterglow.  Thank you Frank, but I wanna do it...my way.  Even if it all ends in tragic turmoil...I can say that.  The rest can cluck their tongues and roll their eyes and comment on how the girl at the very least, filled out nice.