An Impromptu Expression of Confusion, Fear, and Bitterness.

So . . . I'm sitting here today, and I'm wondering, "Why am I here?" Yea, sounds cliché . . . But don't you ever want to know? I know I'm not here to just take up space; not here to use up air; not here just to sit around and maybe move if somebody is coming at me. No . . . Somebody put me here for a reason . . . They left me here to my own devices; with a job, and a goal to reach. Now I just gotta wonder why the son of a bitch didn't tell me what it was.

Now, I am the only one who can choose where I go in life, and what I do. But, that freedom of choice ain't worth squat if the only choice I have is, "You want fries with that?"

Now, I know who I am; I don't have issues with that. I'm not a prep, a jock, a nerd, a slacker . . . Well, I do like to slack off once and a while . . . But I don't have that label. I know exactly who I am . . . Just not where I'm going. It's kind of like knowing that you have a nice blue-green Toyota Prius hybrid car . . . But you've lost the keys. See what I'm getting at?

Now, there's one thing I don't like about life and that is growing up. Not that I'm gonna get wrinkles and look old . . . It's just that I'm gonna have to think old. I wouldn't be thinking about this if I weren't growing up, with people all around me saying, "Start thinking about where you want to go, missy! It's never too late to start planning." Yea . . . 'Cause it's real easy to make a plan when you don't know what you're doing. Thinking about all the possibilities makes my head hurt, and trying to work it out makes me depressed.

I don't wanna grow up, damnit! I don't wanna grow up . . . .

My only salvation is that I have a few more years before all hope is lost. But, on the other hand . . . A few years ain't enough, and that depresses me even more.

Who could I go to for help? A parent, a teacher, some celestial being? I don't know, and I'm not inclined to figure it out. I don't believe any of them could even fine – let alone understand – this sense off confusion and fear buried deep within me.

Fear. Fear's a dirty word to me. I'm more afraid of feeling scared than anything else in the world. If that makes any sense at all.

Gotta keep on my feet. Just keep moving forward. I've gotta keep climbing up the hill, even if I keep falling back down. "Sometimes, in order to go forwards, you have to take a step back." Someone very wise once told me. Yes, well . . . One gets tired of crawling back up the same spot one was just in. The scenery gets a little old.

Life's a bitch . . . But I don't think I'm quite ready for the dying part.

I'll wake up in the morning and think, "I wonder what it is that won't happen today?" Yet, there's a small part of me that tells me to get up 'cause I never know when something new might happen. For some reason I listen to that part of me everyday . . . An I only feel disappointment when I find out it was wrong again.

Sometimes I feel like I should just lay down and die. But that means admitting defeat, and I hate losing.

I'll find whoever put me here . . . And when I do, I swear I'll kill him and make him tell me my purpose. Perhaps I'll even do it in that order.

Once again . . . Another day passes and I'm feeling jealous of everyone else . . . Jealous of all the people they know . . . All the things that they do . . . Then I'm left alone to drown myself in a dream . . . Trying to escape the world that I hate so much.

This bitterness that I feel inside of me is something new. I've never felt this way until now . . . I don't quite know what I am supposed to do.

All of this can be traced back to the question, "Why am I here?" I start to think about it every time I have nothing else to do. It pops up every time I start to think . . .

Maybe I just need to stop thinking.

Moroni of the Mount of Ro. 12/01/04.