You know those moments where it's late at night, you're really tired, and suddenly you are struck by all the things in your life that aren't going right?
I hate those moments.
I hate retreating. I hate not realizing what I have. I hate doing poorly at something and thinking, I guess I better give up and try something else.
I hate wondering what I'm doing wrong, then finding untestable hypotheses that could be the answer, and so I assume they're right. Furthermore, I hate assuming these hypotheses are right, when there's a very good chance that the problem, as I see it, doesn't really even exist.
I hate being fat. I hate thinking I'm fat. I hate believing that this fatness is an impediment in life.
I hate going to sleep, certain that I'm floating through life, and I hate having to assure myself that it'll all be better in the morning.
I hate the fear of being poor.
I hate being a snob, and I hate that I don't have the resources to justify being a snob.
I hate that reasoning through every element of a problem does not come naturally to me. I hate that I invariably stop when I know the right answer, before I know the complete right answer.
I hate that I'm not creative enough to be an artist, hardworking enough to fix or produce things with my hands, and personable enough to excel at interacting with others.
I hate that I don't have the guts to always be closing.
I hate being afraid.
I hate being afraid. That one is worth saying twice.
I hate that I don't come off as a self-possessed leader of men.
I hate that the grin that works so well upon first meeting can really only be interpreted as the grin of a fool.
I hate that I don't follow through on things. I hate not finishing. I hate having only enough drive to know that I don't have enough drive. I hate my mediocrity.
I wish that being 27 meant I was grown up. How is it that I don't have this switch that so many other people seem to have that makes them responsible adults?
You know what the nice thing about having something you've never done but wish you did? Like sky diving? Or writing a novel?
The nice thing is that, for all that it is a regret, at least you aren't/haven't failed at it.
Because what then? A failed dream is basically the same thing as lost hope.
Alright. It's 3am. Time to recite that mantra that proves true every time (except the time my advisor yelled at me in Bozeman, but that's another story).
It'll all be better in the morning. Screw tiredness and whatever bizarre chemicals are coursing through my body. It'll all be better in the morning.