My complacency and the sound of my pitter-patter

I’m here at this time and place where I can look back and consider all my experiences; and I’m left wondering why? I feel come upon me this desperate yearning to express something I gained from all that, not knowing what that might be, believing I must know before I might start the expression–stalling, finding distraction, laziness, self doubt, losing myself in another, in love–then newfound inspiration! then sadness, despair, anger, frustration and the thought I’ll be old and all that I’d been given in this life, all the trials and tribulations went unused. 

That is how I feel these days. On the brink of something extraordinary and Gatsby-ian, or on the long downward slide toward common background noise, which is fine, except for the voice which always whispers to me, You can be so much more. I love that whisper, but god I hate it too. 

That which I want most, that expression and good use of my gifts and life experiences, is yet also that which I fear most. My fear is that my voice is worth nothing, and what if I express myself and still remain without some interior victory, if my expression fail? Then that fear will be confirmed, and I will have no other path to tread. 

So I tell myself it is better to not express at all, so then, at least, I can maintain some hope my life had meaning. Meaning never used, but still.. I can always tell myself there’s tomorrow. I am stuck in that leaning and swaying. Though, it is becoming more apparent, either I express myself, or I ruin myself and everyone near me.

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