stuck

I’ve got cages falling around me like the ice I used to love from the skies back home. You make one plan and that falls through and you just think, well that’s okay, I’m good at improvising, this is just an excuse to do something new, and then all of a sudden you’ve got inches of ice on your branches and you can’t move or else you’ll snap with sounds like gunshots. They’re everywhere. I don’t know if anyone out there is reading this, but the cages and the ice, they’re everywhere.

Everywhere I look I just see miles and miles of myself sitting in an office in a city with smog and four lane interstates and not a single genuine smile as far as the eye can see. I see myself five years down the road still saying “I’ll go see the world when I’m older, when I have more money saved up, when I pay off my student loans, when I when I when I when I when I” and it all sounds like bull shit. It’s all bull shit. You start growing up and they start asking you what you want to be and you say you don’t know so they tell you that you’re smart and talented and that you can do anything in the world you set your mind to. So you do, you set your mind to something. And you continue to grow up and the thing you set your mind to doesn’t work out and you’ve got one option, only one, and you know that it won’t even make you happy but you do it anyway because that’s all you’ve got and then suddenly you’re 60 and suffering from high blood pressure because you never stopped being anxious since you turned 21. And the whole while you keep thinking “but I’m smart and I’m talented and they said the whole world was in front of me” but you’re still stuck in the same fucking place you’ve been for years.

If I don’t share this on FB I know that no one will read this, and they will continue to believe that I will make something great out of my life. But I am just one in seven billion. And I am all dried up. I’ve stopped falling asleep at night, I don’t think I’ve slept since December. When I close my eyes all I see are my mom’s broken heart, the dead guy from the Canyon, Norway without me, and my own loneliness. And none of those are things that I can fix.

The world lied to all of us. It made itself seem bigger and brighter and more accessible, assuming that growing up and coming of age would dull our imaginations enough to keep ourselves trapped in safe, career driven lives. I don’t want a career, I want a mission and a dream and a lifestyle that promotes holistic well-being, not just wasting time until I die. Nobody here seems to realize that we are all just going to die someday and none of this matters. The more I face failure and mediocrity the more I begin to think that God or Yahweh or Allah or Creator or whoever the fuck had the brilliant idea to put seven billion people on one planet just to suffer from boredom doesn’t actually care about me. I’ve lost my life force, my Creator, my sculptor. He’s gone and I’m collecting dust here on the shelf.

If you’re reading this, I’m stuck. Like, the cement is starting to set, stuck. Like, nail polish on the carpet, stuck. Like, the sword in the stone, stuck. Stuck. And I can’t accept average, but I have no options for vibrant greatness. I can’t even flow when I write anymore, it’s turned to choppy sentences with no resonance, no depth. Just words, empty empty words. Anyone who ever expected greatness from me was wrong. I’m sorry I can’t live up to the expectation, believe me, I bear the weight of my own mediocrity more than you will ever know.

This isn’t a cry for help, it’s just a confirmation of what I know deep within my heart. I know I am better than this, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m better than this, I’m trying, but I just can’t keep up the facade. I’m sorry.

Until next time,

H. Asfeldt

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