I’m Tired Of Running

Nowhere to go and I’m getting there fast.  That’s a lyric from Beanie Seagel.  That’s been my life for a long time.  Running away from writing.  Running away from doing the work.  Running away from being uncomfortable.
Previously I found comfort in gambling.  I could spend 24 hours locked in front of a laptop playing poker.  Now as I am in recovery for that, the devestation that brings is printed on my mind.  So that is the last place to run to.
So I run to weed.  That’s a familiar place.  Buy a ten bag, smoke a joint to myself, fall asleep, wake up do it again.
Eventually the weed runs out and all I’m left with is a full stomach and an empty feeling of guilt and worthlessness.  So can’t run there anymore.
Then I run to porn.  How many times can you masturbate in a day?  Not more than ten….eventually my body can’t do it.
Worthlessness and shame.
The life of avoiding work is more tiring than doing the work.  It’s a boring existence of procrastination and delay.  Of self hatred and guilt.  Of projection of what people will think and using excuses to do nothing.  A world of options, yet no intentional choice to follow one path.
A world of idealism and naivety.
Fear has ran my life.  I thought I’d cracked it when i discovered it.  Yet it’s clever.  It’s like Mystique from X-Men, takes the shape of somebody familiar just to get close to you and stick a knofe in your heart.  All these things I knew how to do them.  Yet they wrapped there arms around me and slowly strangled the zest I had.
The beauty is I have the control.  It’s funny I laugh sometimes aboutt his – nobody put a gun to my head and said be a writer.  Nobody said go after the path of sharing your message and make a living from it.  Nobody told me that transforming lives through words was the way to go.
I chose to do this.  I chose to do this.  I think that deserves repeating.  I CHOSE TO DO THIS.
So my feet have come to a standstill. And I turn around and see what I’m running from.  And there’s nothing there.  False words and contradictions.
There comes a time in every dreamers life where you either shit or get of the pot.  Where you become a professional and take your craft seriously – or you might aswell just pack it all in.  Sitting on the fence and fucking bout just gives you a sore arse.
How do you do that?  Well I think that’s what I’m going to explore.  I believe a choice is made.  I’m tired of running.  No more.
Now I’m going on the offence!