I am where I want to be, but I am not who I want to be. And that just plain sucks.

I have finally reached the point in my life where I feel like I have accomplished something. I have a real grown-up job that I can take to the next reunion with pride, I have a decent car that wasn’t a hand me down for the first time. I have my own place, which crazy as it is it is still safe.

For the first time in my adult life, I have both ample time and opportunity to write my heart out. I have more than enough money in the bank that I could take myself every day for coffee and a Danish to write over, and then still have enough to go out to dinner after that.

There is nothing wrong with my life. Nothing at all. Short of having a level of control like a lucid dreamer over this universe, there is nothing I could or would change. Yet even for all that I am not happy, and I do not feel safe.

In reaching this point, I have obtained all the material things that my conscious has deemed necessary to be a fully realized adult. All that is left are the unmaterial things to be dealt with, and I don’t even know where the hell to begin.

How do you get or work towards getting things that are so intangible you can’t even imagine them? And damn I have a pretty freaking awesome imagination.

For one thing, how about a sense of accomplishment? You’d think with all I have gone through in the past, well my whole life actually, that somewhere in there I would start to feel like I was worth something. But even now I still sit at my desk daily knowing deep down that I don’t deserve this. And I can’t get past it.

Or even vaguer and overly simplistic, how about a sense of being a good person who makes good choices? Like letting out cars into backed up traffic, or letting the daily spewing of garbage roll off like water. Or even just having a day where I don’t internally cuss someone out because I am so uncomfortable in my world I cannot tolerate their existence.

Then there is the big kahuna, love. What the hell is love anyway? Not ever having been in a successful relationship, or any real relationship, I don’t even know what I am looking for. Whenever I imagine this nonexistent man, all I see is a big doe-eyed sweetheart who is gaga about me. It doesn’t get much deeper than that.

Clearly, there is a lot in my life I need to ruminate on, and I think at the crux of this big life change to a more sedate and comfortable life is giving me the opportunity to do just that. Not that I can sit and do nothing, but the universe is telling me that I need to start working on the inside rather than the external bits of my life.

Who am I? And what do I want? (Non-committal noise here) But hey, at least I know what 42 means!


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