Don't waste yourself at the start, they say. They keep saying.
And they know best, I know,
Just looking out for you and all the rest of it.
But you can't possibly run out of passion, can you?
Or maybe it started off as that, and then the spillage came in.
As frustrated as I am, as infuriating as this feels, I'm glad it's happening.
In some sense anyways.
It's almost like, at least I get to sift through what may or may not work for me in the long run.
And I'm learning, really I am.
Don't make promises (or even bring up the idea of one) before you know what'll be asked of you.
In this space though,
It seems like I might be running a tad low on fuel.
It makes me uneasy, this realization. And my admission of it.
I can almost sense some part of myself turning to the other and going,
"So is this what you're truly passionate about?"
It scares me, because I'm less sure of my motivations.
I used to say I could do this forever.
I said that two and a half years ago or so, and I did carry on doing it.
I kept at it because I could.
It's just that 'this' has changed a bit, sort of expanded if I may.
But I mean, something's gotta give, right?
There're always, always bits of what you do that you don't like.
It'll never go seamlessly, but I don't know.
I guess at the same time I'm trying desperately to way out the compromises.
Someone got me thinking about something the other day-
Six months ago, ten months ago, twelve months even,
A low but comfortable number on the scale was a 5.5 out of 10.
And that number would either stay put or increase over the course of the day.
On a good day,
I wake up at a 2.5
It might go up a bit, now and then,but after,
It settles back into the same number.
And I'm comfortable, really I am. I'm not sad, oh lord, no.
But I guess I'm just not as happy and settled and at peace with myself as I used to be.
I hate that I'm finding this out, and that,
I've found myself in full confession mode.
I'm quite upset now.
And feeling bloody stupid at that.
Fuck the stupid knee, I'm going for Muay Thai tomorrow.