Though he had often
Heard that one is
Supposed to be oneself
And pursue one’s dreams,
The messages rattling
Around in his head
Kept him from doing
What he really loved,
Settling instead on
A pale imitation of living.
Trying to find a solution.
It’s not there,
No matter how hard she looks.
Not yet, at least.
She wonders how much longer
It will take, or whether
Fate conspires against her.
With no immediate answer,
She keeps going,
As she always has.
Keep trying,
There’s no way
This will work.
Keep going,
No tangible
Progress.
You’ll make it,
Failure a familiar
Constant.
Stick with it,
It may never come
To fruition.
Don’t give up,
You’re
Worth it.
There was never a shortage
Of well-meaning and broken
People eager to tell here
What she should do,
Projecting their own fears
And failures on her and
Discounting her dreams.
It would take many years
Of living someone else’s
Life for her to figure out
That the only voice that
Mattered was hers and that
She could follow her own path.
Great news! I’m trying to be perfect.
It’s really fun, wish I was here,
What with doing so many things and
Getting every last detail just right and
Double checking everything and
Comparing myself to some arbitrary rule book and
Silencing the ghosts and
Measuring all the time.
Pulse racing,
Pupils dilated,
Awareness heightened,
Endorphins streaming,
Gulping air.
Harrowing experience
So close to the real thing.
What a rush,
He feels alive,
It begins wearing off
He’s forced to go back,
Be himself,
Look inside,
A fate postponed by
Each next thrill.
She’s not
Like everyone else.
She has courage
And insight.
She creates worlds
No one else has.
She doesn’t follow
Trends or fads.
She listens to
Her own voice.
So, I finally got
My washboard abs,
My fancy clothes,
My flashy jewelry,
My exotic car,
My huge house,
My trophy wife,
My now what.
All at once,
Each thought
More intrusive than the last,
Vying for attention,
Demanding flashing signs.
In the turbulence,
A small voice beckoning,
Comfort and solace,
Purpose.
