Why the fuck can't I be
The way I desperately feel I must be.

Why do I list all the powerful things I'll do,
Then fight with life on the line to avoid starting them.

Why do I wake up with hope and a true belief that today I'll change the world,
And then spend the next sixteen hours convincing myself of how stupid I sound?

Why must I believe I'm worth something,
Only to lose faith every day?

Why?

That's the deal. It's the hand I'm dealt. It's the life I lead. It's the wonderful, gifted, twisted, dark, beautiful and broken brain I've got.

Every day I wish I was dealt a different hand.
Every day I think, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Goddamn roller coasters.

——————

Why can't I be aligned? Why can't I dive head-first and whole-heartedly into the crazy stuff I want to be doing? Why is it so hard to start that next short story? Why is its increasing scope a reason to avoid it instead of a reason to get excited? Why am I always so sure I lack originality? Why do I think I need to become an expert before I can voice an opinion?

And why—at the same time—do I even want to do the crazy stuff so badly? If I'm so vehemently opposed to it, why can't I just let it go?

Why are both voices so fucking loud?

I ask a lot of questions. I often get frustrated. I lose patience with myself.

Why can't this be easier? Why is it that the more I want something—the more I start to believe I can have it—the more doubts rise up in response?

I pity myself all the time for this conflict. The duality of my thoughts leads me to think the grass must be greener elsewhere.

I also get off on it a bit. It's fucked up. It's hard. But it's me. And these funky twists and turns make me feel special.

But when I'm feeling my most sane and thinking as clear as I seem capable, I just accept it all. I'm not giving up on the idea that I could form healthier relationships in my head; that maybe I could turn down the volume on some of the shouting. I'm just trying not to add another voice to the noise. I'm not shouting at the other voices to knock it off. (Picture a parent getting between two warring children. A calm approach is probably best.)

So that's the situation. I'm peacekeeping between children. And they have nukes. And my sanity is at stake.