Sometimes life gets in the way of doing the things that you want to do. Sometimes you just get in your own way. I think I can dispense with saying 'sometimes' because I do it constantly, and I think that I'm not alone.
You do it, too. You waste time in so many ways that it would take a solid afternoon of self-reflection just to list them. I know, because I've had to do just that.
I think that the final decision comes from a place of fear and denial. Staring, every day, at yourself in the mirror and finding your flaws is difficult. It's impossible for most people. For me, it's hard because I can see behind my reflection a vast nothingness that silently assures me that none of this matters anyway. Cosmically, even the worst genocide or war is an infinitesimal blip on the timeline. My life means nothing but what meaning I assign it. Having that much control over your own destiny is an interesting dilemma, because until this junction I felt that I had no control at all.
Some would say that I still don't; that the control I feel is a necessary illusion that perpetuates the human condition and the propagation of the species. I call bullshit.
