square blocks, round holes

Spent some time in thought and these John Mayer lyrics kept creeping to the front of my lobe.

Something’s missing / And I don’t know how to fix it / Something’s missing / And I don’t know what it is / At all

*These are just musings of my mind at the current moment, take them for that.

Re-inventing yourself is hard. It’s confusing. It’s not what I thought I’d be doing. Now.

Back in the day I thought I had it all mapped out. All my ducks in a row.

I was going to work at a church with students. For a long time. And be happy.

I wrapped myself way up in the idea and was mid-air, head first, letting gravity do the work.

As things sometimes do, things gradually changed, most of the time so slowly that I didn’t notice. Every moment seeming the same as the last, but different just enough. Just enough that I fell out of love with the idea.

With the cost of growing older, sometimes things must part and we must start anew.

And I was ready to start anew. Exciting possibilities and new realities. Exploration at it’s best.

Yet, there loomed the day when I would have to sit and come to terms with the implications of it all.

I sit here with a heavy heart, missing the days of old. The days when I told myself what I wanted. Days that were filled with the pursuit of gaining what I desired. The days of knowing.

Right now I don’t know. Not a clue.

I don’t like it. I do not like Green Eggs and Ham, Sam I Am.

This is not the end of candy cane lane. It’s not all gumdrops and rainbows.

Change is taking a toll. Uncertainty is gaining ground. Constancy is slipping further away.

In the last 18 months almost everything is different.

From the mattress I sleep on and where that mattress resides to the people I find company with.

It’s a game of of hide and seek and I just keep counting, because I think everyone will just come back. Opening my eyes will only reveal a truth that I’m not quite ready to face.

There’s a desperation in my stomach that’s growing. A Peter Pan complex that won’t heed to the prescribed remedies. A Peter Pan that has a beer belly, week old stubble and tights 3 sizes too small.

It seems to me it’s not as much about “growing up” but about where “I’d hoped I’d be by now”.

Too many doors have been shut and I’m left to peer in the windows.

The windows of others lives that I thought I could be living. The blanks have been filled in for them, yet I struggle to find an adverb to save my life.

All this writing and musing out loud and the questions still remains. “What am I to make of myself?” “What will I have to show for at the end of day?”

Letting people down never feels good. For either party. I hear the whispers. I feel the judgment. I know.

Don’t know if dunking my head in ice water would be enough to snap me out of it all. Not really sure what it’s going to take.

Like I said at the beginning of this. Something’s missing.

Here’s hoping I know it when I see it. And it comes sooner than later.

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