decade and accolade

What happened to me? What happened to all this creativity I used to have? What happened to the guy who used to write rap songs to Mobb Deep beats, who used to write absurd and really sort of disturbing poetry? That guy sitting near the back of the classroom, making abstract doodles on the margins of notebook pages, filling the lines with pencil sketches of indiscernible shapes and images. Am I still him? Or did he ever even exist? I start to think now that I've only ever had this idea of myself. And this idea is slowly warping in a way that the "me" I used to be and the "me" I want to become are turning into the same person.

The eternal internal conflict ensues: they say it's best just to "be yourself" but in being so, you run the risk of becoming too complacent, too content with who you are already that you never try to change. I think it should be to "be a better version of yourself," but at the same time, with that you have to be careful not to try to change the intrinsic parts of you that make you who you are. And that's where lines get crossed and it gets too hard to tell which is which, which parts of you to keep, which parts of you to change.

Or maybe my problem is I want so badly to do so many things, too many, in fact, and my lack of time management skills and general ineptitude with regards to anything relating to being proactive and disciplined, in addition to being way too indecisive about anything, leads me to not do anything at all. And the list of things just piles up higher and higher, like a roommate's dirty laundry in a college dorm.

So it's clear to me then, of course, that I do need to change. It's not just a matter of want, it's a need. Actually, the need part is pretty evident, it's the "want" that's probably the part that's holding me up, making me hesitate. So, I don't know. Like always, I don't know. I'm looking for my resolve. I'm looking for a ground to stand on. I'm looking for myself in all the usual places, but where am I? I'm not there.

This decade is over. The world will keep spinning like nothing just happened. What is there to make of all this, except, maybe, probably, the obvious, that we're all getting older, that it's already here - the future, I mean. Time, time, time, it's weighing me down, it's trapping me in the corner. And all signs point to yes - it's evident, it's clear: I need to change. I want to change. If I ever want to do half the things I want to do, if I ever want to be the "me" I've always want to be.