Procrastination

2011 Abril 15 0039

“O the cunning wiles that creep 

In thy little heart asleep!

When thy little heart doth wake,

Then the dreadful night shall break.”

W. Blake

               I’ve known forever I’m a procrastinator. If I had a defining characteristic, it’d be procrastination. My parents could attest to that. I and the word late go hand in hand, like bread and butter. But now I’m talking about a different kind of waiting. Ever feel like days are all together; strung along in a chain? And it never ends? Well that’s what it is. Like I’m sleeping and I don’t want to get up. I mean I’m not sleeping but my whole existence is in this cocoon and I just won’t open my eyes.

               Yeah I go to work. Yeah I talk to people. I go to church. I work out. I pretend I just do it like everyone else. But I just feel like I have no purpose, you know? And maybe the reason I’m working more is that I justify my existence as if it’s an excuse. I have this constant schedule of working and wasting time. Like a charade I made for myself. One of my friends even scolded me how I’ve talked about my plans a long time and it seems these last two years I’ve absolutely done nothing.

               I really don’t know. Ever since I graduated college, I seem to have lost my footing. I thought I knew what I wanted to do; I even planned it in my head. But it seems I fell asleep and I’m afraid to wake up, do what I need to do. I’m in a limbo, in a dream. Afraid to make a choice. Afraid it would be the wrong one. I feel like I’m too old to have cold feet. Why now?  Like I’m in some sort of life crisis, but I’m barely thirty.

               I gotta wake up. Too many people depend on me. And I worked very hard to be here just to waste time. I just wish there’s something to wake me up. It’s too late in life to stand on the edge of the pool like a little toddler afraid to swim. Make up your goddamned mind, brother. Get up. You already know what you need to do.  But you seem to be too scared to do the rest of your life. It's time to grow up, bud. This night has got to end.

               Well…maybe tomorrow dammit. 

McLovin, out.